gifts for wildly creative ten-year-old goofballs

For medievalists/miniaturists: a decorate-your-own castle blank, complete with inspiration, craft glue, and an assortment of craft paints and popsicle sticks (old egg cartons make especially good masonry). Add a working catapult kit for siege warfare re-enactments.

For painters: Akashiya watercolor brushes and a big ol' New SoHo SKETCH pad.

For creative writers: A fuzzy one-eyed creature journal, complete with padlock, for monstrously good drafts.

For sculptors: Wikki Stix (a magical melding of yarn and wax) to doodle in three dimensions.

For activists: The Pushcart War by Jean Merrill, which reveals (hilariously and metafictionally) words to live by —"don't be a truck"—and what it really takes to change the world.

For collectors: An earmarked ten-spot tucked inside a coin purse for treasure-seeking expeditions, jaunts to the candy shop, or bookstore adventures.

For recipe tinkerers: Extremely good cocoa, fluffy marshmallows, a whole can of real whipped cream, and Dutch chocolate sprinkles, for concocting the ultimate hot chocolate.

For composers: A pocket-sized Stylophone synthesizer for sonic noodling.

For the late-night button-pusher: A Snoopy Timex, complete with stopwatch and backlight.

For cuddlers: Fuzzy slippers with kitten ears in pink or brown.

For the hoarder of Jellycats: A Raindrop.

For all: Kiosk's "noisemaker from hell", because the holidays come but once a year (and because, despite its fearsome appearance, it only makes a subdued squeak, haha).

gifts for exuberantly eccentric eight-year-olds

 

Assorted Ototo Spaghetti Monster tools, so they can learn to make their own buttered noodles.

An avocado to stuff with surprises, like a couple of Maria Tallchief golden dollars or a fifty-pence coin from Narnia.

A lockable Gerstner mini chest, for assorted secret and precious treasures.

A clear lock that comes with picks to challenge nimble child fingers and scheming young brains.

Zach Weinersmith's Bea Wolf, an epic tale of the triumph of youth (and one of the most absolutely delightful books we read in 2023).

The Turning Tumble, a marble run that is actually a computer, to demystify magical screens.

Polymer clay, to make the tiny accoutrements desired for last year's woodland kingdom, which is sprawling across the top of two bookcases these days.

A Calcifer mug to keep minty-honey tea hot (or Totoro or Jiji). 

An Otamatone, which is a Japanese toy synthesizer that looks like the happy offspring of an eighth note and a salamander, so that they can perform retro hits.

Runamok syrup infused with edible mica, to make waffles glitter.

A pack of pencils by Duncan Shotten that sharpen into rainbows and a book that explains what to draw and how to draw it.

Cozy kicks that will always be easy to spot in the boots-off pile.

A leafy green they may actually be willing to embrace.

*Editor's note: All eight-year-olds I have met are, in fact, exuberantly eccentric! It is a great age.

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One more indulgence: These funny gift guides are an annual delight to compile for all of you anonymous folks out there. I don't make any money from them—no affiliate links, no placements, nada! I'm an online renegade!—but if they have brought you joy or amusement, please consider making a donation to Doctors Without Borders. I'm donating what I can, too, and holding the people of Palestine, Ukraine, and Sudan in my heart. Thank you.

gifts for sweet and salty seven-year-old storytellers

A kite to color, then fly.

A kid-sized headlamp, to encourage under-the-covers reading, and a book worth staying up late to read.

Mysterious riches via a grab-bag of 25 coins from around the world.

Yoto's clever mini audiobook player, with Kate Winslet's cracking Matilda, Meryl Streep and Stanley Tucci doing Steig, forever friends Frog and Toad, plus cards to record their own stories.

A real fountain pen for satisfyingly messy penmanship practice.

MoonShine Suds handmade rainbow crystal soap, to get the ink from the fountain pen off. 

A kalimba for composing pretty tunes whenever inspiration strikes.

Areaware Moon chalk, for making interesting lines.

A subscription to Mishou, an arty magazine for kids and their grown-ups to enjoy together.

A snake that needs a hug, for the ever-expanding Jellycat collection.

Marbles for holding the whole the solar system in your hand.

A set of blocks for building a woodland kingdom.

gifts for march sisters

A "little cabinet piano ... with beautiful black and white keys ... and bright pedals." (Roland Kiyola oak piano).

A "band of sky-blue stones" to wear as a reminder not to be selfish. (Rosa de la Cruz turquoise eternity ring.)

A boxwood sewing kit, for mending tears and stitching the long seams of sheets.

A party dress with frills and a touch of real silk (Ulla Johnson Severine gown) or a sensible yet pretty skirt.

A length of silk velvet ribbon, to cover frizzled bangs or adorn a newborn baby.

Cards of gingerbread to nibble and plates of russets to eat while curled up on attic divans, reading.

A basket for corralling errant kittens.

A favorite story (The Pilgrim's Progess by John Bunyan.)

A pocket-sized pochade box for painting abroad. (Guerilla Painter pocket box and accessories.)

A little remembrance of beloved birds that died from neglect, perfect for keeping needles handy.

A chest with a lock, to keep childhood treasures safe and vengeful sisters away from unfinished manuscripts.

Sturdy boots for running until your hairpins tumble out.

An edition of Undine worth the wait. (Undine by De La Motte Fouque, translated by W.L. Courtney and illustrated by Artur Rackham.)

A martin house to convert into a post office, for sharing "tragedies and cravats, poetry and pickles, garden seeds and long letters, music and ginger-bread, rubbers, invitations, scoldings and puppies" with next-door neighbors.

And, naturally, pickled limes.

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For the truest March-sister Christmas: find a nearby food bank or some other way to share some comfort and joy.

"Merry Christmas, Marmee! Many of them! Thank you for our books. We read some, and mean to every day," they all cried in chorus. 

"Merry Christmas, little daughters! I'm glad you began at once, and hope you will keep on. But I want to say one word before we sit down. Not far away from here lies a poor woman with a little newborn baby. Six children are huddled into one bed to keep from freezing, for they have no fire. There is nothing to eat over there, and the oldest boy came to tell me they were suffering hunger and cold. My girls, will you give them your breakfast as a Christmas present?" 

They were all unusually hungry, having waited nearly an hour, and for a minute no one spoke, only a minute, for Jo exclaimed impetuously, "I'm so glad you came before we began!"

... They were soon ready, and the procession set out. Fortunately it was early, and they went through back streets, so few people saw them, and no one laughed at the queer party. 

A poor, bare, miserable room it was, with broken windows, no fire, ragged bedclothes, a sick mother, wailing baby, and a group of pale, hungry children cuddled under one old quilt, trying to keep warm. 

How the big eyes stared and the blue lips smiled as the girls went in. 

"Ach, mein Gott! It is good angels come to us!" said the poor woman, crying for joy. 

"Funny angels in hoods and mittens," said Jo, and set them to laughing.