There’s something bittersweet about these last few weeks of summer.

The days are still long, the evenings still warm, and there are probably popsicles melting down little hands and swimsuits drying on the deck. But somewhere in the background, school supply lists are appearing, backpacks are being pulled from closets, and bedtime is slowly inching earlier.

Summer is winding down.

I think that’s why these final flings feel a little more special.

One more trip to the pool. One more spontaneous ice cream run. One more evening spent barefoot in the grass until the sun disappears. One more family adventure where nobody is quite sure what time it is because summer has its own rhythm.

As a family photographer, I love these in-between seasons. The moments that aren’t perfectly planned or perfectly posed. The way your five-year-old still reaches for your hand without thinking. The way your older child suddenly seems a little taller than they did in June. The expressions, quirks, and little personalities that have changed almost imperceptibly over the summer.

While we’re busy trying to soak up the last bit of summer, our kids are quietly growing.

They’re learning how to be more independent. They’re discovering what they love. They’re making new friends, asking bigger questions, finding things that challenge them, and becoming just a little more themselves.

There is so much excitement in that.

A new school year is more than a new teacher, a new classroom, or a new grade. It’s another chapter in the story of who they are becoming.

Maybe this will be the year they learn to read a favorite book all by themselves.

Maybe they’ll discover a new passion.

Maybe they’ll make a friendship that lasts for years.

Maybe they’ll surprise themselves with something they didn’t think they could do.

Maybe, as parents, we’ll look back at the photos from this summer and realize just how much changed between one school year and the next.

Before the backpacks are packed and the first-day outfits are laid out, let’s squeeze in the final flings.

Stay up a little too late. (my daughter completed this today)

Go get ice cream.

Run through the sprinkler.

Take the long way home.

Let them get dirty.

Take the picture—even when nobody is looking at the camera.

These ordinary summer days are the ones we’ll miss someday.

As we close the chapter on another summer, I hope we can hold two things at the same time: the ache of watching our babies grow and the incredible joy of getting to witness who they become.

Here’s to the final days of summer—and to all the growing, learning, laughing, and becoming that awaits on the other side of them.

Cheers!