Santa's going to have a tough time topping the gift that Parker Dains already got this holiday season.

In early November, the 7-year-old from Milpitas, Calif., opened a box of books from Edina-based Abdo Publishing. She was ecstatic. Her mother cried happy tears.

It's not that the Dains family shares an oddly emotional response to kid books about caves, sea creatures and ghosts. It's that Abdo listened to a little girl and made a big change.

Editor in chief Paul Abdo laughs at claims that his company acted not out of goodwill, but to garner good press.

"We're not smart enough to come up with this plan," he said of the 30-year-old family-run educational book publisher. (Besides, with a mailing list of more than 100,000 school and public libraries nationwide and 5,000 titles, they don't really need the attention.)

"Librarians overwhelmingly liked our decision," Abdo added. "They want everybody to read."

Parker's sentiments exactly.

Last April, when she was still 6, Parker found a book in her California library called "The Biggest Baddest Book of Bugs." It was one in a six-book "Biggest Baddest Book" series from Abdo that includes beasts, monsters and pirates.

Parker loves bugs, especially glow-in-the-dark varieties. When she turned the book over, though, the back cover left her cold. The "Biggest Baddest Book" series was "For Boys."

Parker sat down with her pencil and crafted a handwritten letter.

"Dear Publisher," she began. "I am a six (6)-year-old girl and just read Biggest, Baddest Book of Bugs."

Choosing to limit the series to boys, she wrote, "made me very sad because there's no such thing as a boy book. You should change from Biggest, Baddest Books for Boys into Biggest, Baddest Books for Boys And Girls because some girls would like to be entomoligists too." (Yes, we're going to forgive her for misspelling entomologists.)

She closed with a simple, "From, Parker."

Parker created a few nifty pencil drawings at the bottom of the page, including one of her doing her homework, which I'm guessing her parents never have to remind her to do. She then placed the letter in an envelope decorated with brightly colored Hello Kitty, Christmas tree and tulip stickers, and off it went.

Abdo & Daughters, as it was originally named, was founded in 1982 in Mankato by Joseph Abdo and his three daughters, Jill, Lynne and Melody. By the mid-1990s, sons Jim and Paul joined them and the name changed to Abdo Publishing Co.

Joseph and wife Meredith also have sons Jay and Jack. All their kids, and now 16 grandkids, have grown up on Abdo books. Four of the grands work for the company.

When Parker's letter arrived on April 14, 2014, Jill passed it along to her daughter, Grace Hansen, who is editorial coordinator. "Oh, boy," Hansen thought. This wasn't the first feedback the company had received about those two words "For Boys."

Deborah Lucas, an elementary school librarian in Costa Mesa, Calif., e-mailed Abdo Publishing last January as she was ordering books for the coming school year. The distinction "really rubbed me the wrong way," she said.

"I'm an old '70s feminist, and I've raised a boy and a girl. I know there are differences, but to lead with the assumptions about the differences does a disservice to the kids."

In the company's defense, its intentions were understandable. It's no secret that getting most boys into books is like pulling teeth. Paul Abdo points to a report from the Center on Education Policy that highlights the stark gender divide when it comes to reading. The gap is about eight points in elementary school, growing to 11 points by high school. Websites, including gettingboystoread.com and www.guysread. org, have been created to address the problem.

But when Hansen asked Abdo, "Can we change the name of the series?" he said yes — quickly.

"While we believe that it's our responsibility to continue to address the individual needs and interests of both boys and girls (for instance, creating a STEM-promoting biography series called Women in Science), we … do not ever want our books to discourage a reader from exploring the topics that naturally interest him or her," he said in a prepared statement.

Hansen let Parker know about the decision. In a neatly typed letter, she praised Parker's thoughtfulness and told Parker that the new series would simply be called "Biggest, Baddest Books."

"We will be sure to send you a few copies, so you can share them with your classmates (boys and girls alike)," Hansen wrote.

After the book series arrived at the Dains household, Parker's father, Michael, shared the news with the local news media. Soon, Parker's story exploded across the country, and beyond. The Guardian in England picked it up, as did news media in Australia and France.

Not everybody was amused, Hansen said. "Some people asked, 'Why did you drop the label so quickly?' " She laughs. "It's been wild."

Michael Dains and his wife, Staycee, said they are "very thankful" for Abdo's willingness to listen to their daughter. "It was so cool to see her see something she didn't think was fair and do something," Michael said.

Librarian Lucas was impressed, too. "I hand it to them that they were willing to change. They are paying attention."

Parker didn't let Abdo Publishing's decision go unnoticed. She recently sent them a handwritten thank-you note, featuring the biggest, baddest orange and purple butterfly, smiling as it soared on bright red wings.

"Dear Abdo," Parker wrote. "Thank you for taking my advice."

gail.rosenblum@startribune.com

612-673-7350 • Twitter: @grosenblum