If you want to understand the modern parenting landscape, try telling an eight-year-old you want to publish their art.
It started innocently enough. I recently set up an old, chunky PC running Ubuntu Linux and LibreOffice for my daughter. I wanted her to have a machine dedicated purely to creation—no browser, no dopamine-scrolling, just a keyboard and a blank page. To my delight, she immediately started typing up haikus and laying out her own investigative newsletter.
I was so proud, I asked if I could share her work on a new project I was building.
Because she is a child of 2026, and because we had just been looking at a Facebook photo of a cousin who won a pageant overseas, she didn't miss a beat: "Oh wow, cool! Does this mean I get to be an influencer?"
I am 69. She is 8. We are exactly 61 years apart. In my day, kids wanted to be astronauts or center-forwards. Today, they understand the currency of digital influence before they have mastered their multiplication tables.
I told her absolutely not. I explained my Golden Rule: her face, her real name, and her voice will never be published on the internet until she is old enough to truly understand what that means.
"But dad," she protested, "you have to show my face!"
Instead of shutting her down, we negotiated. I pitched her the "Banksy" approach. I explained that the most legendary artists in the world don't show their faces. They operate in secret. They let the art speak for itself. The mystery is what makes them powerful.
She loved it. She demanded a pen name, and she demanded full creative credit for her work.
So, it is my absolute pleasure to officially introduce my Co-Founder and Art Director. On this site, she will simply be known as "G".
In the coming weeks, you will see her hands on the keyboard, you will read her haikus, and you will see the beautiful, unhurried things a child's brain can produce when you take away the tablet and just let them be bored.
Welcome to the 61-year view.