Photograph their hands. Just their hands.
The library
Every question Vellum asks
All 133 of them, free to read, free to use, and free inside the app forever. Whether you want questions to ask your 4 year old, a reason to record their voice, or one small thing to go and do tonight, it's on this page. Take them and use them in a notebook if you'd rather — that's fine. The app just remembers so you don't have to.
Nothing here is metered. Some apps in this category charge you per question per day; that's the thing worth not doing. Pricing is here if you want to see where the line actually is.
What did they say this week that you want to remember exactly?
Never let go of the hug first today. Let them be the one to pull away.
Get down to their eye level and take the photo from there.
Record them telling you a story. Any story. Don't correct a single word.
Film them telling you about their day. Don't prompt them.
What is your kid obsessed with right now?
Photograph their shoes by the door.
Get on the floor for ten minutes. That's the whole mission.
Write them something about money that you wish someone had told you at nineteen.
Take a picture of what they built today, however unimpressive.
What does your kid call you? Write down every version.
Carry them when asked, even though they can walk fine.
Photograph the mess they made. Don't clean it up first.
What's the bedtime routine right now, step by step?
Record them singing. Whatever they are singing.
Ask them ten questions about someone else in the family and film the answers. Don't correct anything.
Take a photo of them sleeping.
Use their oldest nickname out loud today, while they do still answer to it.
What food is your kid refusing this week?
Photograph their drawing or their handwriting, exactly as it is.
Measure their height and weight. Photograph them against the same wall, same spot as last time.
Take a picture of them with whoever they are most attached to right now.
Let them help with something, even though it triples the time.
What did they do today that annoyed you and will be funny in ten years?
Write them a letter about exactly who they are right now. They won't be this person next year.
Photograph their lunch, arranged the way they arranged it.
Record them counting as high as they can go.
Film them doing the thing they are currently best at.
Who is their best friend right now, and what do they do together?
Don't rush lights-out tonight. Stay an extra ten minutes.
Take a photo of them doing the thing they do every single day.
Photograph their face mid-laugh. Burst mode. Take twenty, keep one.
What word does your kid mispronounce that you don't want to correct?
Say yes to the next thing you'd normally say no to.
Take a picture of them in the same spot you photographed them a year ago.
What is your kid afraid of right now?
Photograph what they are wearing today, head to toe. In ten years this is a costume.
Record them saying the alphabet.
Record thirty seconds of them just playing. No talking to the camera.
Let them choose dinner. Entirely.
Write down what you were afraid of before they were born, and what actually happened.
Take a photo of the two of you. You're in almost none of them.
What did they teach themself this month?
Photograph their favorite toy alone, like a portrait.
Ask them a question and let the silence sit until the answer comes.
Describe their laugh.
Take a picture of them outside doing nothing in particular.
Record them saying their own full name.
Film them explaining how something works.
Go outside with them with no plan and no phone.
What's their answer to "what do you want to be when you grow up" — this week's version?
Take a photo of them with their grandparents.
Photograph them next to something for scale — a doorway, the dog, your hand.
What song is stuck in the house right now?
Apologize to them for something. Out loud.
Photograph their hair first thing in the morning, before anyone fixes it.
Write them about a mistake you made that they'll probably make too.
What's the last thing they asked that you couldn't answer?
Take a photo of what they chose to wear when nobody helped.
Record them describing you.
Record them running toward you.
Let them win, and don't tell them you did.
Photograph the bottom of their feet after a day outside.
What's the first thing they do in the morning?
Take a picture of their hands working a zip, a button, or a spoon.
Tell them one specific thing you admire about them. Not "good job."
Take the same photo you took last month — same chair, same angle.
What are you worried about with them right now?
Photograph where they fell asleep that was not a bed.
Do nothing next to them for fifteen minutes.
Record two minutes of dinner. Don't announce it. Just the room.
Film the bedtime routine start to finish, one take.
Photograph the book they have asked for every night this week.
What did you get wrong as a parent this week? Write it honestly — they'll need to know you were human.
Write down the story of the day they were born, in as much detail as you can still remember.
Photograph their plate at the end of dinner, exactly as they left it.
Ask them to teach you something.
What does their room look like right now? Describe the mess.
Take a picture of them from behind, walking away from you.
Photograph the thing they carried around all day.
What's their favorite thing to do with someone who isn't you?
Put your phone in another room for the whole evening.
Record them reading a page out loud.
Ask them what they'd say to themself at eighteen. Film it.
Take a photo of their face while they are concentrating.
What's a rule in your house they'd be surprised to learn isn't universal?
Take them on a solo date and let them pick everything — where you go, what you eat, what you do.
Photograph what they left on the stairs.
What did they cry about today?
Take a photo of the chair that is always theirs, empty.
Write them something about someone in their family that they'd never think to ask about.
Make cookies together this week. Photograph the mess, not the cookies.
Record them telling a joke.
Film them eating something for the first time.
Photograph their shoes on the wrong feet.
What's the last thing they were proud of themself for?
Take a photo of what they built and then knocked down.
Build something with them that takes more than one sitting.
What toy has your kid not put down this month?
Photograph them asleep in the car.
Take a picture of their pockets emptied out.
Go somewhere neither of you has been before.
What does your kid smell like right now?
Record them talking about their best friend.
Record them dancing to whatever's playing.
Take a photo of them eating something they said they hated.
Write down what you hope stays with them from being four years old.
Who does your kid look like today?
Spend an afternoon following only their suggestions.
Photograph their name in their own handwriting.
Trace their hand on paper and photograph it.
Take a photo of them helping with something they are too small for.
What phrase has your kid picked up from you that you wish they hadn't?
Cook something from your own childhood and tell them where it came from.
Photograph the spot they do most of their playing in, with nobody in the frame.
Record them answering "what's the best thing that happened today?"
Film them on the last day of the school year.
What's the thing they do that nobody else would notice?
Photograph them in the first snow.
Show them where you grew up — go there, or go through the photos.
What did the two of you argue about?
Take a photo of them on the first day of school.
Write them what you'd want them to know if you weren't around to say it.
Ask them to pick three songs and play them loud in the kitchen.
Photograph whatever they made out of leaves, pumpkins, or mud this month.
How does your kid say goodbye?
Record them making up a song about nothing.
Interview them with ten questions about someone else in the family and film the whole thing.
Take a photo of what summer looks like for them this year.
Let them plan and "cook" one meal, whatever that means at their age.
What's changed about them in the last three months?
Go back through your camera roll to this month last year and log three photos you never wrote down.
Nothing matches that.
The same questions to ask your 4 year old still work at nine
Age bands are a starting filter, not a rule. “What are they pretending to be this week?” is as good at nine as at four — the answer just grows up with them, which is the point of asking it more than once.
How to use these without the app
Genuinely: take them. Put one in your calendar for 7am. Answer it in your notes app, or on paper, or in the back of whatever notebook is nearest. Two sentences is plenty, and the entry you actually write beats the essay you meant to write.
Three things make an answer survive twenty years, and none of them need software: the date, their age, and the question you were answering. Write those down with it. That third one is the one everybody skips, and it's the one that turns a note into something findable.
Why they're written like this
Every prompt asks for one concrete, observable thing. Not “capture a special moment” — an assignment like that is why keepsake books die on page seven. “What word do they mispronounce that you don't want to correct?” is answerable in nine seconds because there is exactly one right answer and you already know it.
They're also written to be read by any family. The bodies store pronoun tokens and the name as placeholders, and each one is filled in the moment before you read it — so the app says her to a family with a daughter and them to a family that hasn't said. On this page there's no child to ask, so they render neutrally.
Stored
What word does {name} mispronounce that you don't want to correct?
Read
What word does Maya mispronounce that you don't want to correct?
One of these, tomorrow morning
The waitlist isn't an announcement list. It's one prompt a day, by email, starting tomorrow — the same ones on this page. Answer them anywhere. When Vellum opens, backdating means nothing you wrote in a notebook is wasted.
One a day, by email. A note when it opens and when the price goes live. Nothing else.