Two minutes on your phone. Twenty with your kid.
No decisions. No planning. And twenty minutes later, you’ve done something together.
It isn’t open to everyone yet. There’s a free plan for tonight further down. Or leave your address and I’ll email you when we launch.
Mini-dates for each kid. No card.
Why I needed this in the first place.
For a couple of years I was doing well at work, and at home I quietly wasn’t. It wasn’t that I didn’t know my kids — I did. It was that whatever came up, there was one parent they turned to, and it wasn’t me. I could feel that gap widening a little every year, and I knew how Cat’s in the Cradle ends. A weeknight went like this.
Through the door
Demanding job, long days, and nothing left at the end of one. My own habits had gone with it — bad sleep, no exercise, work bleeding into the evening.
Dinner cleared
Forty minutes before bedtime routines and this was my window of opportunity. All I could muster was crashing on the couch.
Lights off
Nobody had a bad evening. Nobody had a particularly good one either. Young ones asleep and phone in my hand, I couldn’t tell you where the time went. The next night was the same one.
Wanting it was never the missing bit.
I wanted one-on-one time with each of them more than anything else on my list. What I didn’t have was a reason to start tonight, an occasion to hang it on, or enough left in me to get over the friction — and that’s for a single evening. Every week, forever, was out of the question.
And I was never short of ideas.
I could give you forty right now and not one of them would have gotten us off the couch.
Somebody still has to pick one, sell it hard enough that your kid’s actually into it, and carry it if it flops — right after work, or right before bed.
So whatever fixed it had to decide for me, give the thing an occasion, and be small enough that I couldn’t talk myself out of it.
So I tried jam jars.
It started as jam jars on the windowsill. One per kid, twenty-odd slips in each, every one written for that kid by name, and a couple of big ones folded in with the rest.
They’d reach in, unfold it and read it out. Then we’d do the thing. That little ceremony was the whole thing, and they loved it. It ran for months.
What killed it was refilling the jars.
Four jars go empty at four different rates. Refilling one means sitting down and coming up with twenty more things for that specific kid, then writing them all out.
You only ever notice a jar is empty at the exact moment you needed it — six o’clock, coat still on, kid already asking. That’s the worst possible time to be handed a blank page.
Pabbi keeps the good part exactly as it was: the reel lands, they read it out, off you go. It’s always in your pocket, and what you did together gets kept. With Pabbi Premium, one tap and the jar is full again, and every new one is written for that kid.
Along came Pabbi!
Built by us, for us.
My daughter came through the door today and the first thing she said was “Dad, are we having a date today?”
Not asking to go on the console. Not asking for the TV. That’s the ask now, and she’d had one two days ago.
And for me, saying yes is not a problem. It’s twenty minutes and I don’t have to think of anything. The bit I didn’t expect is that I’m as curious as she is about what it’s going to land on.
“The axe on the Axkylobrainasaurus, or the Biverrex’s playing-dead attack.”
“What was the best bit? The giraffe?”
“No! Being together with you.”
“If you hadn’t held me back I would have crashed into that building and destroyed it.”
“We both made and decorated postcards. Hers was so cool! And heart-warming, the two of us together at a concert with our favorite bands. Mine paled in comparison. 🤣 It was an awesome moment. My heart completely melted when I saw her card.
And she’s asked at least twice since then, whether we could have another mini-date.”
H. B.
Three to twelve is where I built it, and it holds into the teens. Under three I’d wait.
A dad I set this up for put it like this:
“My wife and I have been talking about wanting to spend more one-on-one time with the kids. We just haven’t gotten around to setting anything up.”
What it is.
This is the bit that’s for you: where, how long, free or can cost. Only what fits can land, so nothing can come up that you haven’t got the time or the money for. You can say yes to whatever lands without checking first.
Neither of you knows which one it’ll be.
A few steps and a timer. Nothing to get ready.
One photo and one line in their words, kept. Tonight’s plan gave you the evening. This gives you the evening back, years later. Mine ask to have theirs read back to them. That was the part I hadn’t designed.
It knows who’s due.
With more than one kid, it keeps track of whose turn it is, so the quiet one gets their turn too.
What are you into that you think I’d be terrible at?
What do you wish I asked you about more?
If our couch could talk, what would it say?
Should the youngest always go first?
Why do you think a smell can bring back a memory so fast?
When you’re grown, what do you want to keep from how we live now?
Topics
One question in the car.
The calendar
Every day you do something together gets its mark. Give the next one a day and a time.
Missions
A game over the dinner cleanup.
Family dates
Something big the whole family is working toward.
Neither of you chose it, so neither of you has to defend it.
A fifteen-year-old can’t say yes to her dad’s idea without it becoming her idea too. That’s what she’s dodging when she says no. It was never really about the activity.
When a machine picks, there’s nothing to agree with. She can think the whole thing is ridiculous and come anyway. Mine does — and we end up having fun.
Why they actually want to.
You never know which one, and you always win.
Before you spin, tap Review ideas and take out any you’d never say yes to. All the suspense, none of the risk.
It looks like an arcade, on purpose.
Lights, a reel, a proper heavy button. A six-year-old wants to press it and so do you. Nobody has ever had to be talked into pulling a lever.
It lands on a big one.
With Pabbi Premium, after five Mini-dates with a kid, the reel can land on a big date: the zoo, a ball game, or an ice cream and the long way home.
I ended the evening having done something, instead of having meant to.
Twenty minutes, closed off, written down.
Give them something to ask you for.
A Mini-date or a Mission is two minutes on your phone and nothing to get ready, so yes is the easy answer.
Have a proper go tonight. On the house.
Tell it three things and it spins you a plan for tonight.
A proper go at the real thing, on the house. No account, no email, nothing to install — and it stays free. The only thing it hasn’t got is your kid in it.
Mini-dates for each kid. No card.
You made one happen.
That one was written for any kid. Pabbi itself knows whose turn it is, and keeps what they said. With Pabbi Premium, it’s built around what each of them is into.
That one was written for any kid. Pabbi sits in your pocket, two taps away whenever you’ve got twenty minutes. It knows whose turn it is, and it keeps what they said. With Pabbi Premium, it’s built around what each of them is into.
Now imagine that, but built especially around you and your kid.
Pabbi Premium helps you meet each of your kids where they are, and keeps up with them as they grow.
Twenty minutes with each kid, doing things they love.
An example family’s year.
A deck that sounds like your kid.
Bugs this month, something else by Christmas.
Your hunch about what they’d love, made even better.
You started with ‘something with pancakes’.
The one they’ll still be telling people about.
You choose the big ones. The reel decides when.
The conversations you’d never have had.
Questions about whatever they’re into right now, and a short briefing so you can keep up.
The machine up there forgets on purpose.
Pabbi remembers your family.
Be the one they come to.
Seven promises about your family’s data and your kids.
Anything pointed at a child is worth being careful with. These are fixed.
No streak a child can break.
The run belongs to the whole family. Any kid’s Mini-date keeps it going, so no child can break it or fall behind on it. Let it lapse and it quietly starts again. Your longest run stays where it is, because that happened.
No comparing kids.
If you’ve got more than one, nothing in Pabbi scores them or ranks one against another. It shows whose turn it is.
No badge a child can lose.
There are some. One fires on your first finished date, with a silly little fanfare, and the kids like them more than I expected. None of them expire, and nothing a kid does can lose one.
Not sold, not shared with advertisers, not trained on.
Never sold, never shared with advertisers, never used to train anyone’s model. It’s kept on a server in Europe, so a lost phone doesn’t take the Memory Book with it. Export all of it, or erase all of it, whenever you like.
The AI never learns who they are.
Everything free in Pabbi works without an AI. With Pabbi Premium, the AI suggests dates and questions from each child’s age, interests, and your house rules. Never their names, a photo, or your contact details.
Photos stay private.
No link to them exists, and no other family can open them.
If I ever shut it down.
You’ll be told in advance, and you’ll get everything out, photos included, in a form that opens without me.
What it costs.
Whole family, however many kids.
That’s less than two happy meals, or two cups of coffee.
Your Memory Book stays yours if you stop paying.
Readable, exportable, free, for good.
What you’re paying for: as many Mini-dates as you want, each written for that kid and what they’re into right now. At home or out, ten minutes or thirty, and now and then a big date they didn’t see coming.
What’s free, and what Pabbi Premium adds.
- Mini-dates for each kid, plus your own
- Missions
- Family dates
- Topics, 180 questions in six kinds
- The Memory Book
- The calendar
Two weeks to change your mind.
Do one date with your kid — that’s the whole ask, and it’s how you’ll know. If you’d still rather not have it, email me any time in the first two weeks and I’ll send it all back. No form, and I won’t ask why.
Pay with the email you’ll sign in with, so it’s waiting for you when you do.
I’m Binni. Icelandic, living in Copenhagen with my Danish wife and our four kids.
I didn’t build this to sell it. The jars stopped, we all missed them, and I wanted the version that couldn’t stop. It ran in my own house for months before it had a name on it.
What it’s given us: I spend meaningful time with each of them individually every week, which never used to be true. They ask me for it. And the four of them get roughly the same amount of me without anybody keeping score — the thing I’d been quietly failing at for years.
What it’s given me is harder to say out loud. I feel better about myself as a father. The days come lighter, I’m off the hamster wheel, and I’m on my phone less in the evenings, because there’s something better to do with the time.
And I’ve got a record of it. Turns out we do far more together than I’d have told you we did. The jars were good; they like Pabbi more.
Make the time you already have count.
Leave your address and I’ll be in touch when we launch.
You’re on the list. I’ll email you when we launch, and now and then before that if there’s something worth telling you.
There’s a note on its way to say hello. If it doesn’t turn up, have a look in the spam folder — better to know now than on the day it matters.
Nothing else to do here.
Mini-dates for each kid and your own ideas, and Missions, Family dates, Topics, the Memory Book and the calendar for good. No card.
$8 a month or $80 a year. Pay with the email you’ll sign in with, so it’s waiting for you when you do.
Straight answers
How do I get in?
It isn’t open to everyone yet. Leave your address above and I’ll email you when we launch. It’s a web app you add to your home screen, so there’s nothing to download and it isn’t in either app store.
How do I start?
Tap Start free and put in your kids’ names and the year each was born. You sign in with a code sent to your email, not a password. It’s a web app you add to your home screen, so there’s nothing to download.
What’s free?
Mini-dates for each kid and as many of your own as you like, Missions, Family dates, Topics (180 questions in six kinds), the Memory Book and the calendar. No card, and it stays free.
What happens when a kid has done them all?
Write your own, free, as many as you like, or let Pabbi Premium fill the machine with ideas made for that kid. Each kid has their own, so one finishing never uses up another’s. Everything else keeps working, for good.
What does Pabbi Premium add?
Ideas that never run out, built around each child, questions about the things they’re into, a big date when they least expect it, and your own ideas, made even better and easy to play.
What will I actually pay?
Nothing for the free half. Pabbi Premium is $8 a month, or $80 a year, which saves 17%. One price for the whole family, however many kids.
Does it renew, and how do I stop?
It renews each month or year until you cancel. There’s a Cancel subscription button in the app, and you keep Pabbi Premium to the end of the month or year you’ve paid for.
Does my child need an account?
Not at the moment. They use your phone, and there’s nothing for them to log into.
Can my partner be on it too?
Yes. It’s one sign-in for the whole family: sign in with the same email on a second phone, and everything is there.
Who writes the activities?
The free ones are hand-written, for any kid that age. With Pabbi Premium, an AI suggests ideas from each child’s age, interests and your house rules, never their name. You decide which stay, and you can write your own.
Who else handles my family’s data?
Supabase hosts the database and files, in Europe. Anthropic writes the ideas. Vercel serves the app itself. Resend delivers the emails Pabbi sends you, and Stripe takes payment if you subscribe. Each of them sees only what it needs to do that job.
Do the activities cost money?
Mostly not. Before you spin you can set it to Free, and only what fits can land. Big dates cost what a day out costs.
What if we skip three weeks?
You open it and everything is where you left it. The run quietly starts again, your longest run stays recorded, and there’s nothing to catch up on.
What language is it in?
English.
What if I want my money back?
Email me inside two weeks of paying and I’ll refund the full amount — the year or the month, whichever you paid. It ends there and then; your Memory Book stays yours, same as if you’d simply stopped.
What does Pabbi mean?
Pabbi is Icelandic for dad.
Are the families in the pictures real?
Mine is. The book and the photos from our Mini-dates are ours, and H. B. is a real dad who tried it. The example families in the pictures are made up, and their photos are AI-generated.
Can I just email you?
Yes. hello@pabbi.app reaches me, and it’s me who answers.