The minivan I liberate is a newer model, the back seat filled with kid's toys. Sage finally hesitates at my choice, but I don't give him an option, or the chance to shatter our little bubble of happy I'm still clinging to. Instead, I point at the glove compartment.

"Find a name," I say, "and I'll make sure they not only get their van back, but they are compensated." That is, if I'm ever in a position to do so. It seems to make Sage feel better ...