Last week, both girls were sitting at their little white table in our kitchen.

At most, it is two feet tall with a surface area barely big enough for two adult-size dinner plates. Random stickers from past birthday parties and faded markers adorn the top.

Hey Daddy, “Do Silly Man!” They love it when I do Silly Man. I play coy.

“You want to see Silly Man?” Two resounding yeses.

I start at the other end of the first floor, take off with my socks on, and run towards them.

As I slide up next to their table and come to a screeching halt, I put both hands up by my ear, making a scrunched-up face, then turn my hands into spirit fingers. All this is done in unison as I make a ridiculous sound (plllllllgggghh), lips pressed together while sticking out my tongue.

They absolutely love this.

The pure innocence of their smiles.

The belly-aching laughs.

They haven’t…

-been told they can’t do something at this point in their lives.

-been told “that’ll never work” when they develop a business idea.

-had their hearts broken by a boy.

-experienced self-doubt. The crippling kind that causes you to retreat both literally and figuratively.

“One more time, Daddy!” It’s not so much a question as a plea: one more slide, one more laugh, one more time.

I know soon enough, there will be the last time I do Silly Man.

A few months back, I heard something that I’ve been reflecting on — a lot.

In his Waking Up app, Sam Harris mentioned a concept called The Last Time.

He asked the listeners to think about all the mundane things we do daily and how we will experience each for the last time. As we all instinctively know but don’t always appreciate, we never know when the last time will come.

I’m not responsible for the impending tears if you’re a parent.

There will be the last time you change a diaper. There will be the last time you read a story at bedtime. There will be the last time you drive them to soccer practice. There will be the last time you drop them off at college.

You get the point.

Bringing that thought from the back of your mind to the front can help redirect your focus.

Not just for parents. For all of us.

At least I don’t need to think about how to end this post.

Just heard the garage door swing open, followed by shouts of “Daddy!”

One day, I’ll experience the last time I did Silly Man.

That day’s not today.