Puzzles

Jigsaws grow with whoever is doing them:

the first are wooden trays with a few chunky shapes, each with a small knob to grip, and those sit better with baby and toddler toys. Preschoolers move on to floor puzzles, a few dozen thick cardboard pieces that make a picture the size of a rug. School-age children manage a few hundred and most adults start at 500. A thousand is the standard adult puzzle, and 2,000 or more is for people who can give a table over for weeks. 3D puzzles are a different hobby: foam-backed buildings and globes, and laser-cut wooden kits from Ugears or Rokr that assemble into working clocks and music boxes. Jumbo’s Wasgij turns the idea around, since the lid shows what the people in the picture are looking at rather than the picture itself. If a child would rather build than fit, LEGO and magnetic tiles are under building sets and blocks, and games with rules and a winner are under board games.

Board thickness on a jigsaw:

separates a good puzzle from a frustrating one, even when the two boxes look alike on the shelf. A well-made puzzle is cut from stiff board: the pieces click together, a finished section holds when you slide it, and a wrong piece will not go in. Cheaper ones use thin board that bends and frays at the tabs, with shapes repeated so often that pieces seem to fit where they do not belong. A glossy print throws glare under a ceiling light, where a matte, linen-textured finish does not. Measure the table too: a finished 1000-piece puzzle covers around 70 by 50 centimetres and stays out until it is done, which is why roll-up felt mats and puzzle boards turn up alongside them.

Paying for Ravensburger or Clementoni:

new, an unbranded 1000-piece box is about $15 in Panama, and the European makes of the same size usually run $20 to $35. Once opened, the brand counts for less than you would expect. A used puzzle sells on the seller’s word that it is complete, every buyer discounts for the piece that might be missing, and the gap between a good make and a cheap one narrows to almost nothing. Only a box still in its shrink-wrap keeps most of what it cost, which is why unopened gifts are the easiest puzzles to pass on at a fair price.

The missing piece nobody mentions:

is the whole risk with a pre-owned puzzle. Ask for a photo of it finished, how many times it has been done, and whether a toddler or a dog shares the house, since pieces get chewed and vanish under furniture. Check that the lid picture is intact, or that the poster some European brands pack inside is still there, because without it a large puzzle gets much harder. A glued puzzle is wall art, not a puzzle, and cardboard holds cigarette smoke, so smell the box when you collect it. On wooden children’s sets, look for snapped knobs, warped boards and gaps in each tray. An assembled wooden mechanical kit is a finished model rather than a puzzle, so turn the crank or wind the spring and check that the gears run without slipping.

One last build of the puzzle on your table:

gives you the photo buyers trust, so finish it once more before breaking it up and take the picture from above in daylight. If anything is missing, say exactly what: a piece of plain sky matters far less than a piece of a face, and “two missing, both in the sea” still suits someone who likes the challenge. Give the brand, the piece count and how many times it has been done, and if you have three or four, offer them together as one lot. Then seal the pieces in a zip bag inside the box and tape the lid, because a buyer coming from Aguadulce for a 2,000-piece box wants every piece to reach home with it.