The day hadn’t even seen the sun rest, and the deep-set dirt from a week away at church camp had yet to be washed away. This was supposed to be the happiest of times; the twin 10-year-olds were home for the rest of the summer, having had the time of their lives with some very close friends.

“I barfed yesterday,” said one. “That’s nice, son.” “I barfed, too,” said the other. (We won’t be having beef stew anytime soon.)

“For the first time in my life, I went on ‘the blob,’” said one of them. From their bare description, it’s an inflatable thing in the water that you jump onto.

This was an interesting day. My wife was up in the Seattle area closing out of the home of my in-laws, a three-level place of memories that they bought in the 1960s. They have moved to Orange County to be close to the family. My wife and I are now officially part of the Sandwich Generation, with one group we hope will age slowly, and another group we wish would not grow so old, so fast.

It was one of the twins, Christopher, who broke my heart. “I don’t want to hurt your feelings,” he said to me, “but I can’t wait to go away to college. And I’m going to go to Oregon University.”

I corrected him – it’s the University of Oregon – and congratulated him on his choice. He already knows the strengths of many of the programs in Eugene, as well as the excellence of the school’s baseball team. He also is, of my three boys, the one who is in the most hurry to grow up. He just can’t wait, though I tell him to smell the roses along the way. In fact, on this day I reminded him that he will only be a little boy once. There are no second chances.

Another thing I noticed that day. I don’t know if it was the dirt on his face that, like makeup, drew out his unique features, or whether it was a week of being away, but he has none of the baby-faced cheeks anymore. He is moving on.

For the first time in a couple of years, I gave Christopher a piggyback ride the other night – just like years ago, when he was so small, he felt like a feather rather than a fellow.

“Give me a hug good night,” I told him. “OK, Dad.” And then the light went out.

Craig Reem is a contributing editor to OC Family magazine.