Cuby is a small, screen-free speaker box for the dresser. It says one step out loud — “Get your toothbrush” — waits for your kid to press the big button, then says the next. You write the routine in the app.
“Get dressed” is not one instruction — it’s nine. Built for kids who know every step and still lose the thread halfway. ADHD or not.
Cuby, illustrated — the actual device is just below.
A speaker, a dial, one big button — it lives on the dresser, not on a screen.
Held in an adult’s head, the steps come out as nagging.
Held in the box, they come out one at a time, in a calm voice that never gets tired of repeating itself.
Yours may be six steps, or twelve. The nagging stops being your job.
Discipline is reps. So we built the box that does the reps.
A box for your kid. An app for you. They never trade places.
Sits on the dresser. Speaks one instruction out loud, waits for the big button, then says the next. Nothing to scroll, nothing to set, nothing to break.
Where the routine gets written and edited. See which steps happened, and where the mornings stall. Only you can change what the box says.
The whole interface is a dial and a button. No app to open in the morning, no screen for a child to fall into.
To the routine you already decided on. The choosing happened the night before, at the kitchen table, by you. You decide once, so nobody has to decide at 7am.
Out loud. Just the next one, never the whole list, never a wall of text.
One button, and it waits as long as it takes. It never skips ahead on its own. Some steps need saying twice: turn on the gentle re-ask and it asks again, patiently, until the button gets pressed.
The app starts you with ready-made routines built with a pediatrician. Begin with one, customize any step, and you are set in minutes. When a step keeps stalling, the Coach shows you which one and suggests a fix. A rule, not a guess: the same stall gets the same fix, nothing to chat with, nothing to type.
Routines is where the steps get written. Coach is where you see what keeps stopping.
Self-discipline predicts teenage grades better than IQ does.
Cuby is not a medical device and does not diagnose or treat any condition.
Angela Duckworth & Martin Seligman, University of Pennsylvania · Psychological Science
Most privacy pages are promises. This one is a parts list.
What does not exist cannot listen, watch or leak. The steps live in your phone, written by you. The waitlist keeps your email and nothing else, never shared, deleted whenever you ask.
Keep the Yoto — it’s great at what it does. But a story card is clock-driven: it keeps talking whether or not your kid moved, and it never knows a step got done. Cuby waits. One step, one button press, and after two weeks it can tell you which step your morning actually breaks on. Yoto plays. Cuby moves.
It’s a routine device. It was designed around kids who know every step and still lose the thread between them — which describes a lot of kids with ADHD, and a lot of kids without it. No diagnosis needed, nothing clinical to outgrow. Cuby doesn’t diagnose, treat or cure anything.
No price yet, on purpose — it gets one when the hardware is real. Joining the waitlist costs an email and commits you to nothing. There are no cards to keep buying afterwards; the routines are yours, written by you.
You’re early. Here is where everything stands.
The box. A working prototype speaks routines, waits for the button and runs offline.
The parent app. Routines, the day’s progress and the Coach, with ready-made templates you can edit.
App-to-box sync. The box picks up its routines over WiFi and keeps working when the WiFi is gone.
Study timers. A dial position that runs a focus block instead of a routine.
Stories and audiobooks. The wind-down step of a bedtime routine will be able to play one.
The shell. The electronics work; the case worth putting on a dresser is being designed.
First batch. Small and hand-built. Priced when it is real; no pre-orders until then.
Shipping. First units go to the waitlist, in signup order.
Leave an email. You’ll hear from us when there is something to ship.
