A board a child can read, and change, and be proud of.
Not an app that measures them. A page they made, with their drawing on it, their week on it, and a button they press themselves — big type, few words, and nothing on the screen trying to keep them there.
Ready to open
Eight boards to grow into
First dashboards: bright, simple, and genuinely theirs. Open one and let them do the designing — that is rather the point.
A gallery for every drawing, framed on the family's big screen the moment it's finished.
Open this board Star chartChores become stars, stars become the thing they're saving for.
Open this board Homework, sortedWhat's due, when it's due, and the sweet feeling of ticking it off.
Open this board Reading adventureEvery book a step up the mountain — watch the pile of finished ones grow.
Open this board Pocket moneySaving up, spending down — first lessons in money, on their own board.
Open this board Big day countdownBirthday, trip or the last day of school — a countdown they check every morning.
Open this board High-score boardThe family arcade table: who holds the record, and for how long.
Open this board Our world mapThe places we've been and the places we're going — geography that belongs to them.
Open this boardType it, and see it
Say what their board should have on it
Pick one of these, or type what they care about — stars, books, the countdown to a birthday — and watch the board build itself. The shapes are the real widgets; the numbers are missing because they are not theirs yet.
Their page, in their words
Six tiles, enormous type, and one of them is a picture they drew. A seven-year-old can read this from the doorway and can change it without being shown twice.
A digital wall to draw imagination on.Their picture, their week and a button they press themselves, in type a seven-year-old can read from the doorway.
Four words, in type you can see from the door
Set the type as large as you like — the whole point of designing it yourself is that you can make one word fill half the screen. A board for a six-year-old should have four things on it, each the size of a fist, and no menu.
They will read it because it is readable, and they will look at it because it is theirs.
A tile they can draw in, with a finger
There is a whiteboard widget, a sketchpad and a drawing tile — put one on the board and the child draws straight onto the page. Not a picture somebody else made for them to look at; a blank space that becomes theirs.
Photograph a real drawing and put that on too. The board holds both, which is roughly how a fridge door has always worked, except grandparents can see it from another city.
The tick is theirs to make
Reading, the cat, the box of things on the floor. A tile they tap themselves, and a run of days that builds up next to it. It is not a points economy and nothing is unlocked — it is a list, and the satisfaction of a list is that you did it, not that something rewarded you.
If a streak breaks, nothing happens. That is deliberate, and it is why they keep using it.
There is nothing here for a child to fall into
No account, no feed, no recommendations, no other users, no advertising and no messages from anybody. A board is a page you made; it does not contain a way to reach your child and it does not contain a way to keep them there.
The link is yours. Share it with grandparents, and take it down whenever you like. Nothing leaves your browser at all while you are designing.
Building it with them is the point, not the setup cost
Let them pick the colour, the typeface, the picture behind it and which tiles go where. You handle the ones with dates in. What you get at the end of an hour is not just a board — it is a child who knows a screen is something you can make, not only something you are given.
Designing is free and needs no account, so the worst case is a nice Saturday morning.