What was the house you grew up in like?
I think about that now, walking up to our porch with you on my shoulder. The maple isn’t there. The cracked driveway isn’t there. But the small thing, wanting someone to know you’re back, that part traveled.
What did your father never tell you?
Each child gets their own book. You answer one prompt at a time, typed or spoken. Eight chapters. Seventy-two prompts. The keepsake your parents never wrote, written by you.
Parents mean to write things down. They never do. By the time they would have, the moments are gone.
Your kids forget the years before five. The bedtime stories. The way you carried them. The version of you that loved them when they were still small enough to disappear in a towel.
Your parents' voices are an answering machine away from gone. Whatever your father didn't write down, you'll never read.
Write it down while you're still the one who remembers.
Most prompts speak to your child by name. The earliest house. The day they were born. The lesson you’d hand them now.
Type it, or tap the mic and say it like you’re at the kitchen table. Your words go in as you said them. Keep them word for word, or let the app take out the ums, false starts and repeats and fix the punctuation. It’s told not to change a word, and you can put it back.
Each prompt fills in one of eight chapters. No streaks. No homework. The book grows when you do.
What was the house you grew up in like?
A sample. Yours will be in your words, with your kid’s name.
“What was the house you grew up in like? What did it smell like?”
“Describe the version of yourself at 18. What would that person think of your life now?”
“How did you meet your child’s other parent? What was your first impression?”
“What were you most afraid of in the weeks before they were born?”
“What’s a tiny moment (not a milestone, just a moment) that you never want to forget?”
“What’s the most important thing life has taught you?”
“A letter for when life gets really hard.”
“What kind of person do you hope they become? Not career. Character.”
72 prompts per book. Each one personalized to your relationship: dad, mom, grandparent, aunt, uncle.
The prompts adapt. A grandmother answering “What was their dad like as a kid?” is a different question than a father answering it.
Each book takes your child’s actual name.
Your book as a PDF you can save, share and back up. On iPhone the app builds it; on the web it opens in your browser’s print dialog, where you save it as a PDF.
A printed hardcover, made from the same book you built in the app. Details and price when it exists.
And one day, their kid will read it.
It costs nothing to begin. The first prompt is waiting.
Start the book