Logical reasoning
Working out what must be true.
“Every red one sank. So what will this red one do?”
Works out which block is making the tower fall — and moves that one.
Finds the single false assumption inside a plan, a spreadsheet, a diagnosis.
Pebblemind teaches four skills every subject rests on — logical reasoning, critical thinking, problem solving and first principles — and adapts every question to hold your child right at the edge of what they can do.
Sessions are short and end with something you do together, off-screen. We deliberately don't maximise engagement.
Each one starts as a question a 7-year-old can answer out loud — and turns into something a 27-year-old gets paid for.
Working out what must be true.
“Every red one sank. So what will this red one do?”
Works out which block is making the tower fall — and moves that one.
Finds the single false assumption inside a plan, a spreadsheet, a diagnosis.
Asking whether something is actually right.
“You said it’s the biggest. How do you know?”
Asks how you know the taller jar holds more, instead of taking your word.
Isn’t fooled by a headline, a salesperson, or a very fluent chatbot.
Getting from stuck to a first step.
“It won’t reach. What could I change?”
Tries a smaller ramp when the marble won’t reach, then a smaller one again.
Is the person who names the first step when everyone else is still stuck.
Breaking a thing down to its parts.
“What is a wheel actually for?”
Takes the idea apart to find out what it’s really doing.
Builds the thing that didn’t exist, instead of copying the thing that does.
Nobody outgrows these. A 7-year-old uses them on a tower of blocks; a doctor, a lawyer and a founder use the same four on a Tuesday afternoon.
Not our opinion. Three findings in plain words — and the one honest catch that shaped how we built this.
Most brain games only make a child better at that one game. Here the gain carried over to brand-new problems — which is the whole reason we teach thinking instead of answers.
Same new puzzle, one child taught this way and one not, 10 times over: the taught child wins about 6 of them, not the 5 you would get from a coin toss. A small, steady, repeatable edge — measured across 8,925 children.
All four moved when they were taught on purpose, in children aged 4 to 12 — which is why our whole curriculum is these four, and why we start at 6 and stay until 11.
Retested months after a short programme, most of the gain had gone. Thinking behaves like fitness: stop and it slips. That is why we run five years, not six weeks.
Diamond & Lee, Science, 2011 · Takacs & Kassai, Psychological Bulletin, 2019 — 90 studies, 8,925 children, a medium pooled gain (g = 0.34) · Scionti et al., Frontiers in Psychology, 2020 — transfer to untrained tasks · Bruner, The Process of Education, Harvard University Press, 1960. Bars above show direction, not exact per-skill figures.
Everything is a thing you can pick up. Nothing needs reading.
The rule is withheld. They test for it instead of being told.
Two sources disagree. Which do you trust, and why?
Scruffy, open-ended problems. The win is a method that travels.
“She argued with me for twenty minutes. With reasons. That has never once happened over homework.”
She stopped herself. Nobody told her to check.
Asked of a teacher. Then of an advert. Then of me.
Eleven attempts at a marble run, no adult in the room.
These are the three sentences parents report back most. None of them are about a score, a level, or a streak — and all three are the sound of a child thinking on their own.
Stories that branch, games with rules they wrote, machines that only work once the logic does.
Movement in these is the only progress we report — in one short note a week, written in sentences.
Five build-your-own studios. A child makes something that actually runs, then works out why it doesn't.
Not our framing — theirs. We’ve named the survey term under each bar so you can check us.
Source: World Economic Forum, Future of Jobs Report 2025 — a survey of employers representing over 14 million workers. Bar length shows each skill’s prominence in that ranking; the report’s own wording differs from ours, so we print both.
You can't know at 7 whether you're raising a surgeon, a set designer or someone with a job that doesn't exist yet. You don't have to. Underneath all of them sits the same four moves.
We are not teaching your child a curriculum, and we are not teaching them to be better at grades.
We're teaching them to be better at growing — at meeting something unfamiliar, thinking it through, being wrong out loud, and going again. That habit outlives every syllabus, every exam, and every job title they'll ever hold.
Out of every 10 questions, your child gets about 8 right and 2 wrong. That mix isn’t an accident — it’s chosen, question by question, and it’s the whole trick.
They already knew all of it. Nice feeling, nothing learned.
Mostly steady, with two that make them stop and think. This is the one we aim for.
Half wrong. A 7-year-old decides they’re bad at it and stops trying.
Tired day? It gets easier within three questions. Flying? It moves up. Your child never sees any of this happen — they just find it interesting.
Easy enough that they keep going. Hard enough that they have to think. Those 2 wrong answers are the reason it works — and they’re what your child will still be doing tomorrow.
The idea isn’t ours: research on learning rates puts the fastest progress just short of always getting it right (Wilson et al., Nature Communications, 2019 — the “85% rule”). The caveat: that work was on machines and simple tasks, so we treat 80% as a target to steer by, not a law — the engine follows the child.
There is no checkout on this site. You make a parent account, add your children, and they start. Here is what it will cost later, printed now so it can never be a surprise.
If you want to support the work while it’s free, there’s a Ko-fi tip jar in the footer. It’s entirely optional, it buys nothing extra, and your child’s access never depends on it.
Nothing is timed and nothing is scored. Pick one and it will tell you what it was reading.
No, and that's a product promise rather than a preference. No streaks, no daily rewards, no notifications, no next-episode autoplay. Sessions end and suggest something to do together off-screen.
Sparks is narrated end to end and works on pictures and quantity alone. Reading load only rises when a child's own profile shows they're ready for it.
We store the minimum needed to run the account, never sell it, show no ads, and carry no third-party trackers. Children have a display name and nothing else.
No — and we'd be suspicious of anything claiming to. This trains the reasoning that makes practice land, which is a different job.
Yes. The atmosphere and depth degrade to a simpler flat version on weak hardware or when reduced motion is on, and the page is never blank without them.
Everything is free while we're in early access — no card, no countdown, nothing to pay with. You'll get one short note a week about what actually clicked.