The Saturday Conundrum

1. 1

   The Conundrum

   A five-minute story that doesn't add up. No villain, no moral, no easy answer.

2. 2

   First vote

   Your child takes a position. On the record.

3. 3

   The interrogation

   The characters are waiting — played by an AI that stays in character, answers honestly, hides things, and slips under good questioning. Your child gets ten questions. Choosing them well is the game.

4. 4

   The chase

   Out of the screen and into the week: check a claim, take something apart, interview a grandparent, build the fix.

5. 5

   Second vote

   Did the evidence move them? Changing your mind here is scored as growth, not defeat.

6. 6

   The Debrief

   A week later, the facts come out — plainly, no riddles. And the one question that would have cracked the case sooner, so your child knows what to ask next Saturday. What the facts mean is left open on purpose: that part is theirs to argue.

7. 7

   The Log

   The questions asked and the thing made go into your child's Conundrum Log — a portfolio of how their thinking grows up.

The AI never teaches. It gets interrogated.

Everywhere else, AI answers children's questions. Here, your child learns to ask the questions that crack a case — the single skill that decides who directs these machines and who merely consumes them.

Not another STEM class.

Code and robots are topics here, not the point. We train the layer underneath: verifying, dissecting, connecting, imagining, spotting gaps, weighing consequences, hearing others, knowing yourself.

Made together, on purpose.

A grown-up drives the device; the child drives the thinking. Screen time becomes family time — that's a design decision, not a compromise.

The facts always arrive.

This isn't a story that trails off. A week later your child finds out what was actually true — and which question would have got them there. What it all means stays open, because in real life it does.

Proof you can hold.

No grades. Instead: a log where week one's questions sit beside week twelve's. The growth speaks for itself.

Safe by architecture: an adult co-pilots every session, characters never break role, language is levelled for 8–11, and every conversation is capped. No ads, ever. No data sold, ever.

US$12/month per family

Every child in the house, one price.

US$96/year

That's US$8/month — about two dollars per conundrum, less than one cup of coffee.

Founding Families: US$59/year, for life

The first 100 families lock the price in for good, in exchange for two feedback conversations and permission to quote you.

Three complete conundrums are free, forever, for everyone — and free means the whole Saturday, Debrief included. What you pay for is every week after those three: the full library, ten questions on each conundrum instead of three, and your child's growing Log.

Does my child need to be "good at" anything first?

No. Only willing to say "that's weird" out loud.

How much parent time?

About an hour on Saturday. The dinner-table question the rest of the week is optional — and free.

Is this screen time?

It starts on a screen and ends with something on your kitchen table.

What if we miss a week?

Conundrums don't expire. The ritual matters more than the streak.

Does my child ever find out the answer?

Yes — a week later, in full. What we never hand over is the verdict: whether Mr. Bell was kind, whether Auntie May was wrong. That argument belongs to your child.