Gifts for kids 10 to 12

Pick a card, pass the rest, build the best sushi plate. Fifteen minutes, twelve dollars, in a tin that fits a pocket.

Two real walkie talkies that reach across a campground. The gift siblings use for a year of spying on each other.

The card game for kids and adults where you try not to draw the exploding kitten. Fifteen minutes, endless rematches.

A thousand pieces of Disney and Pixar characters on a table for a week. The recovery gift that fills quiet evenings.

Two teams, one-word clues, twenty-five words on the table. The party game that works with grandparents and gamers at once.

The 16 inch Squishmallow, the size that works as a pillow. Austin the Avocado is the one that is never out of stock.

The spinning-gear drawing set, back in the original precision gears. The craft gift that calms a kid down.

A book of ten Rube Goldberg machines with the 33 LEGO pieces to build them. The LEGO gift for a kid who has every set.

The family version of the famous card game, with fart jokes instead of the adult ones. The game a ten-year-old begs to play again.

Grow six real crystals in a week, two that glow in the dark. The science kit that works the first time.

The original folding scooter, still made the same way. Aluminum, rear brake, folds to fit a trunk.

Real circuits that snap together like buttons, with a hundred projects that light, buzz and spin. The STEM kit that works.

790 LEGO bricks in 33 colors with no instructions to lose. The box that starts a kid building their own things.

Build train routes across America, block your family, win by one point. The board game that starts people on board games.

The first six Dog Man books in a box. The gift that turns a kid who will not read into a kid who reads under the covers.

The clog that came back and never left. Teenagers want them in a color, nurses want them in black, everyone wears them.

The game every Switch household plays together. Four players on one couch, still the best party game Nintendo makes.

Rough stones go in, a week of rumbling, polished gems come out. The science gift that works and that kids remember.

The Falcon at a size that fits a desk and a budget. 921 pieces, display stand, the ship every Star Wars kid wants.

A real kids' video camera with a green screen, a flip-out selfie screen and a tripod. For the kid who wants to make videos, without a phone.

Minecraft in LEGO with no fixed build: 605 pieces, figures and mobs, meant to be rebuilt like the game.

Point, shoot, a credit-card photo slides out. The camera at every party and the gift teens and adults both keep.

The loud, waterproof speaker every teenager wants. Twelve hours, fits a cup holder, survives the pool.

The new Switch. Bigger screen, plays the old games, and the one box under the tree that ends the discussion.