Why they exist
One evening she asked me a question about fractions, decimals and percents. Simple enough, I thought — I can explain this in a minute. Five minutes later she was frustrated, telling me I thought she was stupid, and I had worked myself into a temper.
She is ten, she is bright, she gets good grades at school, but she would rather play than grind through more practice — which I understand, because I hated worksheets too. Been there, done that. I don't want her drilling her way to speed. I want her to see where the idea in a problem actually sits, and then know how to work it out. Whether she is quick about it really doesn't matter.
So after that evening I stopped pushing. She likes playing — so what if she could play and learn at the same time? I threw together a small app. To my surprise it worked: ten minutes a day, badges to collect, and practice aimed only at the parts she was weak on. Ten days later she had the whole thing. Then I made one for vocabulary, one word a day, so that by high school she will have met thousands of words without ever cramming. Then a third one for spelling, after I noticed she drops letters when she rushes.
She opens them herself now, every day. This week she set her alarm ten minutes earlier — not to get to school early, but because one of the badges is called Early Bird and she wanted it. And she has started asking how I made them, saying she wants to build one of her own. It is the first time I have seen her genuinely curious about something. Teaching her to vibe-code is next, and I can't wait to see what she comes up with.
About your child's privacy
The apps ask for a first name and nothing else — no email, no account, no login. Work is saved in the browser and synced by that name, so it survives a cleared browser or a new phone.
I can see first names, how often an app was opened, and progress counts. I never see answers, anything typed, or who a child is.