Reading compounds. Vocabulary, focus, comprehension — none of it disappears when the book is closed. Here's why I chose to build this deliberately.
Parenting
The honest stuff about raising kids in a world that's changing fast.
My twin daughters are in Primary 2. Last month, they became independent readers on the Kindle. Not "can read" independent. That kind of independent.
Forty minutes of browser tabs, ad blockers, and misaligned curriculum packs. There is a better way, and it takes ten minutes.
The restaurant BGM was playing "How Far I'll Go" from Moana when our food arrived. My girls didn't notice the food. They were singing.
Morgan Housel calls it the hedonic treadmill. The private chef who loses the ability to enjoy a meal. The hotel room that stopped feeling special. Frequency is the enemy of appreciation.
I sleep late. It is a habit I have never managed to shake, and on weekends I guard that extra hour in the morning like it is a finite resource, which honestly it is.
I should start with a confession. I grew up reading comics. Loved them. Still have a soft spot for them. And if you asked me today whether that habit helped or hurt my relationship with reading, I would tell you honestly that it hurt.
I was in the kitchen last Sunday when I heard my daughters in the next room, deep in some roleplay game they had invented. One of them was doing a voice. An American voice, reasonably convincing.
I built a full website in days using AI as an orchestrator. Then I watched my daughters drilling multiplication tables and started wondering what exams are actually selecting for now.
On 富养女, Jonathan Haidt, and what I'm trying to build in my daughters before the phones arrive.
Our daughters are seven. I'm not having the AI conversation with them yet. I'm having it with my wife — in fragments, after school events, on the drive back from enrichment classes.