Any time in the 'old days' when I was working on a quilt, my two sons would show up at my elbow and want me to duplicate the current project for them. "Kin I have one, too?"
My father, who had watched his mother and sisters struggle through hard times, making utility quilts out of 'whatever' thought it ridiculous of me to buy whole cloth to cut in pieces to sew back together again. Having seen them work so hard he thought it better to buy a blanket. It wasn't that he didn't appreciate the quilts--I think it reminded him of how overworked his mother was for so long.