I've written about this subject before in relation to my daughters' childhoods. I don't know when the last time was they rode the mechanical horse at the grocery store, their last bedtime story, or even the last time I had to cut up their food. It's difficult to judge many of those life events because it's really impossible to know what triggers the mental development that makes them grown up enough to pass up the horse in the grocery store.
I texted my daughter at the restaurant to ask if they wanted the campfire and told her I stashed s'more stuff. She replied, "I will keep you updated on whether or not we can eat more after."
It was ten at night. I didn't want to know if they wanted more to eat. "I will be in bed. What you guys really need to decide is if you want to sit out by the fire."
"Yes, please. Let's do it."
So I laid a fire, set out the s'more stuff, lighter, flashlight, and turned on the back porch lights. Then I went to bed. Around 12:00, I woke up to go to the bathroom. I peeked out my bedroom window and there they were, enjoying the fire. I heard them sing Happy Birthday to my youngest as it was officially her birthday. I peed then crawled back into bed and left them to their joy.
What I really wanted to do was race outside, sit with them, and press upon them the gravity of this campfire. Although it was only intended as the last one before the end of the summer, they really didn't know if it was permanently the last one. I mean they're growing up. They don't know what direction they'll take after a whole school year. For some of them it will be their second year. For one of them it's in California. Someone may decide to get a job and live close to school permanently.
It could have been their last campfire EVER and even though they were there, they might have missed it.