In theory, buying gifts for children is a snap. If they’re old enough to talk, but not old enough to ignore you completely, they will likely tell you what they want. And, if your kids run in the same kinds of circles as mine, they all seem to want the same things: fidget rings, slime, a Labubu key chain, a Squishmallow, a Sephora gift card, a digital wad of Robux, a hoverboard, and maybe a puppy. The adult who strives for a more bespoke level of gift-giving—or simply to find something with no connection to screens, mirrors, or fads—risks coming off as presumptuous and pretentious. Why dare to second-guess the desires of a generation not your own?

Then again, with a lot of research and a little luck, you might just guess right. I spent years foisting various knitting and bracelet-making projects on a moderately crafty young friend, with varying degrees of success, before stumbling on a loom kit ($33) that locked in perfectly with the warp and weft of her developing brain; she has found a dopamine-delivery system that is almost as reliable as 99 Nights in the Forest, and it is the act of weaving a sturdy, stretchy, rainbow-colored pot holder. (I use all four of mine!) Among the items that follow, I hope that readers can find their own version of the rainbow-colored pot holder for each of their favorite kids this holiday season.

For Architects, Artisans, and/or Gearheads

Arckit eco model-house kit

Many a grade schooler’s home—my home, in fact—is a Lego home: Lego racecars, Lego streetscapes, Lego giant birds and dirigibles and spacecraft everywhere. But the intrepid shopper can go further afield to satisfy everyone’s building-and-assembly needs. Young architects can tinker with the four-in-one eco-friendly home ($170) from Arckit, an Irish company whose modern-minimalist designs are an ideal complement to the colorful chaos of the Legoverse. Budding mechanics with some Lego Technic cars on their résumés might be ready for a challenging CaDa Supercar (from $180), which is crafted from more than three thousand bricks. For a lower-stakes, breezier project, try a camellias-lilacs-and-sunflower wooden bouquet ($40) or a faintly Lovecraftian punch-out assembly kit for a venomous blue-ringed octopus ($40). But remember that there is no shame in buying what you know. If the tween in your life is fluent in “Simpsons” references, you can make them the latest franchisee of a Lego Krusty Burger ($210).

For Scientists and/or Spies

Spy Labs master-detective tool kit

One of the delights of the early elementary-school years is how kids grasp that being alive means being an investigator of sorts—that a walk to school or an afternoon milling around your apartment can instantly turn into a science experiment or a spy mission, or both. My household has had good fortune with the National Geographic geology labs that are commonplace in big-box stores, including the build-your-own-volcano set ($15) and the crystal-growing gear, like this glow-in-the-dark number ($37). When my kids were in first and fourth grade, they wore out this detective tool kit ($50), which includes fingerprint-dusting paraphernalia and invisible ink, and they trained as entry-level cryptographers using Spy School Secret Ciphers ($24). The eminently reliable Snap Circuits line also has a spy kit ($53) with nifty gadgets, including a voice changer and a motion-detector alarm.

For the Child Who Understands That A.I. Can’t Draw and ChatGPT Can’t Write

“The Boy Who Became a Parrot”

Among the many doomsday scenarios parents must contemplate, one is Gen Alpha’s coming to the irreversible consensus (if it hasn’t already) that A.I. image generators and large language models have obviated the vital imaginative acts—the foundational developmental experiences!—of drawing and creative writing. To assuage such anxieties, I buy things, and so can you. One of the most well-thumbed titles in our family library is a giant, six-books-in-one binder called “Draw Really Cool Stuff” (the stuff includes antelope, spiders, velociraptors, and a Subaru Outback); it’s out of print, but you can easily find it secondhand (here it is for under five bucks). For workbooks of a newer vintage, there’s this make-your-own-comics kit ($32) and this guide to drawing anime ($11). And, for artistic inspiration that isn’t overly instructional, turn to two new titles from Enchanted Lion Books, the superb Brooklyn-based children’s publisher: “The Forgotten Teachers” ($25), a whimsical atlas of the evolution of life on Earth, and my favorite children’s book of 2025, “The Boy Who Became a Parrot” ($23), a stunningly beautiful illustrated biography of the great ornithological artist and bard of the limerick Edward Lear.

For the Unicorn Phase

3-D unicorn head

Like the Disney-princess phase, it comes for us all. You can probably find the costumery secondhand, but, in a pinch, there’s this Great Pretenders bundle ($58). The French company Omy has a kit for making a 3-D unicorn head ($30) that may put you in mind of this Beach House video. Another French concern, Djeco, makes a giant jigsaw puzzle out of a medieval unicorn tapestry ($28), and the Metropolitan Museum of Art, home of “The Unicorn Rests in a Garden,” offers a crystal-stippled gold unicorn brooch ($115).

For a Cozy Yet Stylish Late-December Idyll

Ceramic-bear wall hook

School breaks often entail at least a day or two of slouching around the house doing nothing in particular, and for that one needs the correct attire: maybe a perfectly thick and nubbly Aran sweater ($60), or some terry slippers ($52) in Dusen Dusen’s trademark bright stripes. Staycationers may get the itch to tweak their bedroom décor, which might demand some crocheted lily-of-the-valley string lights ($35) or ceramic wall hooks in the shape of a congenial bear ($95). If the unscheduled hours call for some budget glamour, consider a Depression-glass pendant ($38) or a dainty wishing bracelet ($16); if the Sephora gift card has been purchased, consider placing it inside this cheeky and colorful makeup bag ($18).

For a Stocking Full of Critters and Ice Cream and Possibly a Human Brain

Kikkerland ice-cream skipping rope

The Venice Biennale of children’s retail is Tantrum, an effervescent mom-and-pop store with two locations in the Bay Area; its online emporium has the ambience of a Montessori school as brought to life by Oliver Jeffers or Tove Jansson. I’m especially grateful for Tantrum’s embarrassment of stocking stuffers, a category of gift that, for me, often falls victim to procrastination. For youngsters of a performative bent, there are juggling balls ($12) and circus capes ($42). For those with a high disgust threshold, there’s a grow-a-brain kit ($14) and fossilized poop ($9). For young emperors of ice cream, there’s a jump rope that has ice-cream-cone handles ($12) and a pencil sharpener shaped like an ice-cream truck ($24). For the nocturnal child, go to the T-rex flashlight ($16). If a kid has a bike, the bike will need a vase for flowers ($9). If a kid has a set of keys, the keys will need a fuzzy mushroom keychain ($19). And every child, of course, deserves some glowing slime ($22). ♦