GameRecord is a private app for one family

Three things a day. Sunday together.

Every morning, each person says three things that matter today. Every night, three quick questions about how it went. On Sunday, one screen at the table to look at the week together.

Ask for an invite See a day

Sunday. The tablet in the middle, the host taps Next.

“Did you do your homework?”Shouted up the stairs. Every night.
“Who's driving Saturday?”Asked in the car, answered nowhere.
“What did we even do this month?”Nobody remembers. It was a good one.

We wanted fewer reminders and more noticing. So we built the app our family runs on, and here is one day of it.

A day with the Millers

A made-up family, so no real name is on this page. The screens are real.

7:10 am
Jennifer, 15
History reading before practice. Call Grandma back. Fifty juggles.
She says it to her phone on the way down the stairs. The app writes three lines and asks nothing else.
7:40 am
Mark
Huh. My three happen most on days I plan them the night before.
Once a week, a short private note from his own last few weeks. Only he sees it. Nothing is scored.
3:30 pm
Tyler, 11
Game Saturday at two in Pleasanton, and Jennifer helped me with the volcano.
One breath. The game goes on his calendar; the volcano becomes a note Jennifer finds on her Today.
3:31 pm
Sarah
Tyler is asking for a ride. Saturday, 2 pm. One tap.
The ask reaches her phone the moment he makes it. She says yes; it lands on the family calendar.
8:30 pm
Jennifer
Two of three. The juggling slipped, and it was the right thing to drop tonight.
Three questions, about three minutes. The coach says one thing back, or nothing. Her answers stay hers.
Sunday, 6 pm
All four
Jennifer's week. Then the thank-yous. Then the surprise question. Sarah hosts; next week it's Tyler's turn.
One screen on the tablet in the middle of the table. Only what people chose to share. The host taps Next.
End of the month
The fridge
Thank-yous, what moved, the walk to Yosemite, three pictures.
One page a month from what everyone shared. Printed, it goes on the fridge.

Things the app does on its own

Your calendar fills itself

Connect your own Google Calendar and practices, games and dentist days show up without typing. Add something here and it goes to Google.

The coach remembers

Tonight's one question refers to what you said yesterday. Once a week, a note from your own last few weeks. It suggests. It never grades.

One year ago today

What you finished, wrote, or were thankful for on this date last year, back on your Today. The longer you use it, the more it gives back.

What stays yours

Only you

Your night answers
Your journal
Your goals and the dream behind them
The coach's notes to you
Your warm-up

Your family, if you choose

A day's three, with a switch
A thank-you, read out on Sunday
A goal on the journey map
Your words of the week

Parents can see

A kid's three, list and calendar
Reading only, never changing
The kid sees a label saying so
Nothing else, ever

Enforced in the database, not only on the screen, and tested on every change. No scores, no streaks, no comparing people. Voice is turned into words and the sound is thrown away. The privacy page says the same with more words.

The rest of it

Goals and a journey map. The dream behind each goal in your own words, and the family's goals drawn season by season.
Noticed. Say what you saw someone do. It shows on their Today.
Our constitution. A mission, values and principles the family writes together, from everyone's private words.
Say anything. A to-do, a game, something you noticed, how practice went. One breath; it gets sorted.
The soccer journal. Talk for a minute after a game. The facts get written down, one question back.
Workouts. Five short cards a week, a riddle a day, and the family's miles walking toward a place you pick.
A two-minute warm-up. Three words and one idea a day. SAT words for the older one, the elements for the younger.
Tell Dad. One line about the app from any screen. The cheapest way to hear what the kids think.

Why we built it

We're a family of four in Fairfield, California: two parents, one boy in high school and one in middle school. We wanted fewer reminders shouted up the stairs and more of the small things noticed, by each of us, about each other. The app started as a voice journal for soccer and grew into the thing we open every morning; the kids named the characters and picked the colors.

Ask for an invite

It's one family's app for now, shared by invitation. Tell us a little about yours.