“It’s practical,” he said, pleased with himself.

“Kid’s always coming home with soaked sneakers.”

And my son — my kind, careful son, who had already learned more than a child should about reading a room — smiled politely and said, “Thanks, Declan.

I can warm my gloves on it too.”

I should have understood everything I needed to understand in that one moment: an eight-year-old working to make a thoughtless gift feel less like what it was, so that the adult who gave it wouldn’t feel bad.

I filed it under practical, well, at least he’s being gracious about it, and I let it go.