10 ‘Bad’ Christmas Gifts You’ve Learned to Love As An Adult

These were the ultimate “tell your aunt how much you like it” gift, and we foolishly didn’t see their power. Kids don’t understand the value of simple comfort, because their bones are made of rubber and their joints are spilling over with fresh cartilage. Now, a good thick sock can have a legitimate outcome on the kind of day I have.

Outside of maybe a freshly released Harry Potter, when you picked up a wrapped square present with slight flexibility or a pocket of air on one side between the hard covers, you knew someone was trying to make you learn. It felt like receiving a little bit of time-out. I was an avid reader, and still, I felt that books weren’t meant to hide in such extravagant packaging. 

Now? If someone wants to dish out $34.99 to give me a lush, imaginative world and bit of home decor all in one, I’m very grateful.

I think it’s fair to admit that they are a slightly weird gift for a child. Even the oldest of souls is still a couple years out from loungewear. Kids simply move at too fast a speed for slippers to be a useful form of footwear. These days, though, I’ll wear those things into the ground like one of child me’s TMNT T-shirts. I’ll be lucky if they even make it to the next Christmas to be replaced.

If you’ve got a family trip coming up as a kid, you might unwrap a new piece of luggage. A suitcase that, despite the prominent printing of Mickey Mouse’s countenance throughout, is still very much something no child thinks they need. I’d have been happy to spend a week in Florida building up a two-inch thick exoskeleton of waterslide scum, rolling into bed in my bathing suit like a happy wet rat reeking of chlorine. 

Today, however, it’s a good gift and a compliment. Ooh, you think I travel?

To a child, you might as well have gifted them a beautiful set of shackles. The winter jacket is something not worn, but applied to winter children like bubble wrap on a vase. You don’t know what hypothermia is, and you sure as hell don’t respect it. I’m sledding down steep hills directly into a four-way intersection — you think I’m worried about my body temperature? 

Now? You’ve given me the gift of warmth, a projected hug to get me through the dark winter.

Okay, so it’s not like I want a composition notebook these days. A high-quality pen and a nice notebook, though? Ooh, baby. In middle school, I was the kid who had to ask the teacher for a pen on the day of the test, or hope there was a shattered one in the bottom of my book bag that had enough ink to fill out a multiplication table. Now? I have a legitimate mental ranking of pen brands, and three Moleskines within reach. 

Do they all only have three to five pages filled out? That’s besides the point.

It’s a shame that I still remember mild disappointment after receiving hobby supplies as a kid. Though part of it is that when you’re young, you have maybe one interest that isn’t “Sonic the Hedgehog” or “soda,” so you’re guaranteed to be inundated with watercolor brushes or books about dinosaurs, probably until you're 25. Later on, you’ll learn that paint is actually really expensive, and that spending a Saturday afternoon driving to an art supply store is a demonstration of extreme love.

Another thing I feel like we must be able to chalk up to an underdeveloped frontal lobe — a complete inability to value meaningful sentimentality. I think about the carefully considered cards that I ripped apart for cash or gift cards like a fevered raccoon finding a half-full discarded box of Milk Duds, and I’m ashamed. She is your aunt, she loves you and she’s eventually going to end up in bad shape in a nursing home, and it’s going to be a very formative period for you. So read the goddamn card and say thank you like you mean it.

Honestly, I do understand my past frustration. It’s basically asking little me to hold onto a gift they got for a 30-year-old version of myself. But when that bond matures, and pays off credit card debt? Oh baby! I see now that this was all part of the plan!

Not a person-to-person exchanged gift, but still massively undervalued. Summer vacation makes us think, when we’re young, that days with nothing on the docket are simply pleasant. Wait until you’re working a real job and you’d put your hand on a hot plate for 24 hours without Slack notifications.