Low Demand Gifting

It all started, as it so often does, with a wish list.

I wanted my son to create a Christmas wish list. Not because I particularly needed it, but because I thought it would be helpful—for him, for the family, for the holiday magic I wanted so badly to create. I wanted my kid to experience the excitement of surprises and the joy of guessing what’s inside the colorful wrapping paper. I wanted personally to feel the warm fuzzies of a kid opening a gift, and it being just exactly what they hoped for.

But what began as a simple ask unraveled into something much more complicated.

He couldn’t quickly, quietly, easily, and happily make a wish list. He needed to talk about it nonstop. He wanted everything on that list. He needed the list to change daily, sometimes hourly. He wanted to know exactly which items he’d get—and when. And if something was missing or wrong? Total meltdown.

This is what I now call the gift list gauntlet: an aspect of the holiday season that looks simple on the surface (“just write down what you want!”) but is actually packed with hidden demands—each one loaded with expectations, needs, and potential disappointments.

Maybe gift lists aren’t your hardest thing because you’ve got a system that works for your family. But even still, I hope that this deep dive on one common and challenging aspect of the holiday season helps you drill down into the thing that challenges your family the most. We often need to slow down and zoom way in to listen to our kids’ experiences, to honor our needs, and to find proactive solutions that genuinely lift the burdens and ease the journey.

His Difficulty Really Did Make Sense

Honestly, I shouldn’t have been too surprised by how hard he found the whole thing. After all, when I was a little kid, I found holiday gift-giving intensely painful and difficult. I cried at every single birthday because something didn’t go quite how I imagined. I built up Christmas gifts in my head to such a degree that nothing could possibly match it, and frequently sobbed or raged after everything was unwrapped and the surprises revealed. I would fawn and act like whatever I got was “exactly what I wanted!” and gush with gratitude, only for the glamor to fade into crushing sadness. It’s so so hard. 

Maybe you had your own version of the gift gauntlet from your childhood. After all, many of us carry pretty intense nostalgia or trauma into these present-tense family moments. We dream of creating gauzy, magical, loving family memories, but the reality is so far from dreamy that it makes us break out in a sweat. We want our holidays to be happy, but they are often far from it. In reality, most of us are just trying to have as few meltdowns as possible. 

We've had meltdowns over ornaments, the smell of turkey, and there being too many presents under the tree. I've seen overwhelm, underwhelm, and faulty expectations. Sensory needs go unmet, and sensory systems go on overdrive, making my kids scream and run around the house like tiny pterodactyls while I'm trying to have a moment of silence. Family members don't know what to say or how to help, and I'm left weeping into my cup of coffee, wishing this whole "magical" season was over already.

The Low Demand Lens on Gift Lists

Using the low demand approach always starts by using our kids’ difficult behaviors, meltdowns, anxiety, stress, and challenges as meaningful information to us that something is too hard for them. If they could easily and seamlessly meet our expectations, they totally would. They don’t want to be screaming, crying, or hiding in their rooms, sending a barrage of angry texts. 

Low demand parenting invites us to pause and ask: What about this ask is too hard for my kid? Because a “demand” is anything that is too hard for this kid in this moment.

Writing a gift wishlist, it turns out, is full of potential tiny demands:

• Imagining a hypothetical future
• Communicating with adults (either in writing or in words)
• Tolerating stress and uncertainty about what they’ll receive
• Waiting to receive things that they really want
• Understanding money, budgets, and what’s realistic to ask for
• Making decisions when everything feels important
• Coping with disappointment or sibling comparison
• Managing adult expectations of politeness or gratitude

When I see something is causing my kid to meltdown, I always back up and make a list like this. I write down everything about this ask that *could be* too hard. As I move through this list, I also pay attention to my adult priorities and desires that I am bringing. Why does this expectation matter to me in the first place? What about gift lists truly matters to me? What is happening, big picture, in our lives right now? In this way, low demand will always only go as deep as our self-knowledge and capacity for self-honesty.

In this case, when I looked more closely, I realized: my intention wasn’t really about the gift list at all. It was about recreating a feeling I dreamed of in my childhood—the magic, the surprise, the delight of getting the perfect gift. It was about me and my aspirational nostalgia.

So I walked myself through the low demand parenting process. I named the potential demands. I asked why it mattered to me. I explored what was getting in the way for my child. And then I got curious: what would happen if I let this go?

An Idea: “Wishlist” to “Yes List”

The biggest challenge for my son was the idea that he didn’t know what he would get – and didn’t have control over it. He hated getting gifts he didn’t really want or like. He hated feeling powerless and having to wait in uncertainty to see if he would receive something he loved or…pajamas.

So then here’s what we tried: 

Instead of a wishlist full of guesses and vague hopes, we created a Yes List—a list of gifts he could absolutely count on getting. We collaborated with family members and shared our collective budget ahead of time. He chose items that fit that budget and reflected his real desires. We coordinated the whole thing with various family members who wanted to participate. 

That year, there were literally no surprises. He even chose to buy and play with one gift right away, not wanting to wait until Christmas. I was worried he would regret that decision and be sad on Christmas, but I chose to trust him anyway (after all, we all have room to make mistakes and learn from them!). It was a big departure from our past patterns, but what he experienced was a whole new level of trust, clarity, and calm.

It wasn’t the same kind of magic I remembered from childhood, ripping into boxes, desperate to find out what was inside. But it brought us something way better: Peace. Connection. And a child who could relax into the holiday instead of constantly bracing for disappointment.

What About the Letdowns?

There will still be letdowns. Maybe the gift doesn’t feel like they thought it would. Maybe something breaks. Maybe they get exactly what they said they wanted, and they’re disappointed anyway.

When that happens, we meet them there, in the sadness. We sit in their truth without trying to change it:

• “You were really hoping for a different one, huh?”
• “It’s okay to feel disappointed.”
• “This doesn’t feel fair. I get it.”

We don’t try to fix it. We don’t moralize or minimize. We just stay with them. Because helping our kids survive disappointment is one of the most important gifts we can give.

We can make proactive plans for this disappointment – talking about the ability to return things with receipts, to sell or donate unwanted items to our neighbors, the practice of giving something 24 hours to see if our feelings about it shift. But ultimately, disappointment really sucks, and they have every right to be devastated.

And that brings us to our own hearts—because these moments can stir up so much in us.

Guilt, Grief, and the Myth of “Making Magic”

So many of us feel guilty and ashamed when it comes to gift giving and receiving. We want to raise grateful kids who are not entitled or callous. We want to support them in kindness and in thinking of others. We want to create joyful memories where our kids feel loved and included. 

So when they can’t handle making a wishlist, or they reject a thoughtful gift without a word, or we simply can’t afford what they’re begging for—it stings.

Low demand parenting invites us to pause here, too.

To remember that our worth as parents is not measured in gifts or surprises or appropriate reactions. That our kids’ meltdowns are not our failures. That no one can be judged by what they do when they are most vulnerable. We remember that everyone makes mistakes because we are human and that our younger humans are learning every day. We lean away from the temptation to heap pressure on the holidays and lean into the comforting belief that our loving connection really is enough.

When we prioritize trust and connection over tradition and performance, we make a different kind of magic—one that lasts far longer than anything can be wrapped in a box.

Want to Try It?

Here are a few potential ideas to lower the pressure around gift-giving this year. 

Which of these ideas might lower the temperature and reduce the intensity for you or one of your loved ones? 

Rethink the List

• Try a “Yes List” (give them a number of gifts to request or a set budget, and only include on the list what they will definitely get)
• Give them a set amount of money and let them physically buy their own items at the store (great opportunity to show the value of buying pre-owned/used items!)
• Use a shared spreadsheet or visual board so your child can track what’s being bought and by who
• Let your child change their mind—even if it means saving receipts and making returns

Lower the Demands

• Teach them how to browse favorite stores (online or in-person) and take photos or “favorite” wanted items; model and empower reading reviews and considering the value of an item
• Allow for repetition (yes, it’s okay to get the same toy as last year) or many versions of the same thing, if that’s what they love!
• Drop the expectation of surprise if it causes anxiety
• Open gifts early, or spread them out over days/weeks, to reduce the demand of waiting and the overwhelm of getting everything at once
• Don’t wrap gifts at all if not knowing what is inside causes anxiety
• Don’t put wrapped gifts out early if they cannot open them right away
• Allow them to open gifts alone rather than in front of others (if expectations of liking gifts or being perceived is hard)
• Allow them to open at any pace rather than needing to take turns or “slow down” (if pacing and waiting is hard)

Prepare for the Hard Stuff

• Talk ahead of time about what will happen if a gift isn’t what they hoped for
• Acknowledge how bad disappointment feels. Don’t rush to reframe or push for gratitude.
• Offer a quiet space during/after gift opening if things get overwhelming
• Don’t insist on explicit written or verbal thank yous—send a photo or a simple “we received it!” instead. 
• Prepare family members that not all gifts will be loved and that returns are quite possible.

Tend to Yourself

• Make a list of your holiday expectations and see what’s possible to release proactively
• Budget with your financial reality and your personal values, not with pressure or guilt
• Talk with your partner or co-parents about what really matters this year
• Grieve the traditions that aren’t working. And celebrate the new ones you’re building collaboratively.

The gift list doesn’t have to be a gauntlet. It can be an invitation to get curious, to connect, and to create new rituals that make everyone feel safe and seen.

This year, I’m choosing trust. I’m choosing relationship. I’m choosing a slower kind of holiday joy. I’m putting the focus on loving and accepting my children as they are and celebrating the relationship we’ve built together, which is truly the best gift of all.