“Look, there’s a bat!” I exclaim, my finger moving as a dark silhouette flits across the sky. My younger son and I are sitting on the back steps of our deck, looking up into the darkening night sky.

“There’s another one!” he points out.

Standing up, I add, “Oh, most of the fireflies are in the cemetery.” I’m gazing out in the distance to the cemetery that’s kitty-corner to our backyard. My son stands up and I pick him up so he can see over the railings of the deck, spotting the lights flitting through the trees and headstones.

We don’t watch bats every night in the summer, but it’s a regular tradition. Our small backyard opens out into land owned by the nearby church, giving us an uncluttered view of the sky. The bats roost in the park across the street and emerge in the early evening to hunt insects. They dart and swoop near our house, making their way to the trees and fields in the distance. Around the same time, the fireflies appear, dotting the ground with their magical flickers.

These quiet times are a respite from the frequent chaos of our household. Bedtime has always been fraught for our kids, full of fighting against sleep and manic pre-bed procrastination. But watching bats isn’t. It’s a pause. A peaceful, still moment in time. A time to just watch and be together.

There’s a meme going around that kids won’t remember the grand vacations to Disney World but will recall the simple moments in childhood. I think it’s meant to take the pressure off of people to have these big, grand vacations to “make memories.” I agree that it’s a lot of unnecessary pressure! At the same time, some of the trips my parents brought me on created some of my favorite memories. Travel fed my deep love of nature and exposed me to new perspectives. I also have deep fondness for the hours I spent futzing around in the dirt in my backyard and the many times we biked through my town to the nearby sandwich place. Those simple pleasures resonate with me even now. Both types of experience are engrained in who I am. Both influence how I live as an adult and parent my kids.

Bat-watching on the back porch does not erase hiking in Zion National Park or vice versa. Tent camping at the nearby state park doesn’t diminish a trip to New York City or vice versa. (Not to say that you must have the latter of either of those to have a “good” childhood – I know that many people cannot afford those types of trips either financially or time-wise.)

Rather, the big, splashy times and the small, quiet times are all different, complementary experiences. They both depend on having the right attitudes, of not forcing fun or enjoyment. Both are fundamentally a matter of embracing the time spent together. Comparing them does a disservice to both. If we can seek beauty together wherever we are, we can embrace it wherever we are.