Everyone knows about Firsts. Firsts are cause for celebration. They’re immortalized in photos and videos. Firsts are shared on Instagram and Facebook. Firsts get lots of likes and lots of congratulations. Every first is a milestone. Firsts go in the baby book.

Lasts are much quieter, mostly because you don’t realize they’re Lasts. There are no celebrations. There are no photos. There are no likes. You may not even realize you’ve seen a Last until years later, when you look back at some Firsts. Timehop and other “on this day” features often alert you to a Last you may not have noticed at the time.

The last time his dinner was a bottle of Carnation Good Start baby formula.

The last time you changed his diaper.

The last time he needed you to tie his shoes.

The last time he wanted to wear a firefighter helmet to school.

The last time he wanted to play goalie at soccer.

The last time he thought yellow school buses were magical.

The last time he wanted to climb into your bed.

The last time he watched Thomas the Train.

The last time you could pick him up.

Not all Lasts are cause for sadness. I don’t really miss changing diapers. But they are all milestones, more for us parents than the children. As he becomes the man he is destined to be, the little boy I once knew is no longer. He’s still in there, of course, but I can’t talk to him directly any more. Sometimes I miss him.

Seven years ago already?