one day,
one little drawing.
a baby's first year is 365 days. this is a page with 365 dots on it — one for each day. fill a day in and a hand-drawn doodle grows where the dot was.
by the end, their whole year is a single page you can hold in one hand.
that is the entire idea.
what a day holds
a photo, kept as a print
square, white border, and whatever you wrote that day handwritten along the bottom. every print lies at its own slight angle.
a drawing you pick
thirty hand-drawn marks, in seven inks. each day gets one, and no two days beside each other are ever the same.
a few words, or a lot
enough room for a real memory. what they did, what they said, what the day was like — it is yours to fill however you like.
and one day, a birthday
once a year the doodles come off the grid and stand in a ring around the only two words that matter that day.
what happens when you miss a day
nothing. the dot stays where it is, quiet, and you can fill it in whenever you like. a week later. a year later.
there are no streaks, no percentages, and nothing anywhere that counts up the days you let go past. this is a keepsake, not a habit tracker.
it all stays on this phone
no account nothing to sign up for, nothing to sign in to. the app opens and it is yours.
no cloud every photo and every word is written to your device and nowhere else. there is nothing to delete from a server, because nothing was ever put on one.
no ads, no selling nobody buys anything about your child from us, because we do not have anything about your child.
one thing does leave an anonymous count of taps, so we can see what needs fixing. never a name, a date, a note or a photo — and you can switch it off in settings.