They still had plenty of puddle jumps left, I thought, looking at the treads on the children’s rain boots that a friend had given us. They had been loved and worn before, and yet their tart-cherry shine made them look almost new.

As a parent of three, I had watched our children leave a trail of rapid-growth hatch marks that climbed the kitchen wall as fast as grapevines. So I welcomed a bag of gently used footwear and clothing, to keep pace, like a casserole on a cold winter’s night.

Feeling grateful, I dropped the boots by the back door, where they seemed to beckon: Click my heels – let’s play. Our oldest was the first to discover they were a perfect fit, rain or shine. He tugged them on and ran outside to wage battle against Voldemort.…