Stella's Games

The brief

Stella is three and a half, and curious about everything: letters, counting, colours, the words on a page. I wanted to help her learn, and I wanted it to feel like play. Most apps for her age are loud: voices, confetti, timers, scores. I wanted the opposite, something educational and fun that she could play for twenty minutes and then put down without a fight. So I set myself a few rules.

• Cats and cookies, as original characters drawn for her
• No voices, and no words she has to read
• No timers, no scores, no losing
• Every game ends with a sticker

She can't read yet, so a small pointing hand shows her what to do. A wrong tap gets a gentle wiggle and a soft note, never a buzzer. After two tries the right answer glows.

A small design system

I built every game from one kit, so twenty-four games feel like one place. I chose soft pastels on cream, and a warm brown ink instead of black, which keeps the screen gentle and the outlines friendly.

Big round shapes, lifted on a soft shadow. Nothing flashes, and nothing moves on its own for long. Progress through a game is a row of dots, never a number.

I drew the pictures in code, as SVG, so they are sharp on any iPad and need no image files. It works offline once it has been opened.

Levels that grow with her

I didn't want her bored, and I didn't want her stuck. So every game is a ladder of 8 to 12 steps, from very easy to a real stretch for her age, and each round is one step harder than the last.

Watching her play taught me the rest. She flew through the letter games, tapping almost before the letters had landed. She got stuck mixing paint, turning the pots with two fingers as if to pour them. So every game now notices how she plays, round by round, and the paint pots pour when she turns them.

When a game goes smoothly, she starts one step higher next time. When it is a struggle, she starts one step lower. So each time she plays, it begins a little nearer her edge.

None of this is shown to her. There are no levels to see and nothing to lose. It is only the game getting out of her way, or slowing down for her.

Unlocks, and a path toward reading

I want to take her as far as reading, one small step at a time. Harder games open as she masters easier ones. Finding letters opens First letter, which picture's word begins with which letter. Building her own name opens Picture words, short words under their pictures. That opens Word match, a word with no picture beside it.

A game that has just opened glows butter yellow, with three small twinkles, until she plays it once. Never a lock, never a count of what is left. Once a game has appeared it stays, even on a harder day.

Stickers, not scores

I wanted the stickers to mean something. Every finished game gives a sticker for her book. Her book has a row for each game, always in the same place, filling up in the order she earned them.

When she finishes a game at the top of its ladder cleanly, twice, it is mastered. That gives a gold medal, once, and the medal sits on the game's tile from then on.

That is the whole reward system. No points, no streaks, no counts.

The grown-ups' corner

Hold the top-right corner for three seconds and a small panel opens for me. It sets her play time for the day, twenty minutes by default. When the time is up, the cats are asleep until tomorrow, with no countdown on her.

I also wanted to know how she is really doing, so it opens a report: everything the games noticed, round by round, read back in plain words beside what is typical for her age, from the CDC's milestone checklists and Ontario's Kindergarten curriculum. Each figure is counted from her play, and each milestone is quoted from its source.

It is a guide, not a test, and it says so. The data stays on her iPad.

What she practises

Twenty-four games across nine skills, from first letters and counting to colours, patterns, feelings and a slow game for bedtime.