It got a good laugh around the Christmas lunch table.

My cousin, who just graduated from college and is about to start his first post-school job, received towels for Christmas for his new apartment. As my oldest cousin present noted, it’s a sign of adulthood.

But it is a sign of a lesson most of us don’t like to admit: The practical Christmas gifts get more use and leg time than the fun ones.

Even if we fail to or avoid admitting it, we all know it deep down. I was reminded of this again this year when I found myself secretly hoping for new gloves for Christmas, which I didn’t get. (Thanks for nothing, Santa).

But it slapped me even harder across the face in the form of thousands of little white flecks: last Monday’s snowstorm.

While helping a certain coworker and her husband (cough, Jenae Hackensmith) push her broken down car into their garage, I started kicking myself for forgetting a gift from a friend: a new stocking cap. Then I returned to my all-too-quickly iced over car and reached for the ice-scraper/brush, which was one gift from my sister I quickly passed over on Christmas. I used it another three times that day and on Tuesday morning before I was left remembering that I’d thanked my sister for the fun gifts but not that one.

The fun gifts, Beatles memorabilia from an antique store, are hanging on a wall, while the trusty scraper got lots of work and use this week, as did the new snow boots I bought with my Christmas money.

Perhaps it’s time I thank her for the gifts getting frequent use.