Six years ago, my husband and I decided to transition from giving toy gifts to our two young sons at the holidays to giving them adventures. We went big and bold: We gave them the gift of travel and that was it, their sole gift under the tree. At the time it seemed like a good idea; they were 8 and 10 years old. But on Christmas morning, their glum faces were a bit hard to forget. After the travel letters were read and they thanked us kindly, my husband and I looked at each other and were sure we had made a horrible mistake. We feared that we had won the award for Grinches of the Year.On the bright side, deciding what form these adventure gifts would take was a breeze. My oldest son, Will, loves to ski, so his gift was a trip to each of the major ski resorts in New England. The catch was that this gift would unfold over seven years, from sixth grade until his senior year in high school. My younger son’s gift had an even longer trajectory. He is my baseball guy: He eats, sleeps, and dreams baseball. His gift was to attend a baseball game at every Major League Baseball stadium. This would span 13 years, and the goal is that on his 21st birthday, he and his father will get Green Monster seats at Fenway to celebrate the conclusion of his stadium tour.