Gifts for teens

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

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.

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.

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

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.

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

Snap a phone into it and it becomes a handheld console. Game Pass, PlayStation remote play, Steam, all on the train.

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.