When a Child Reviewed iStoryTree...

A few have reviewed the app and given us well-deserved thumbs ups, thousands have downloaded it on their iPads and enjoyed it; yet something was eating our hearts out. We were waiting for something more, something more exciting than formal reviews, something that would make us feel like heroes. What exactly we were waiting for, we could not tell.

Although our party had already begun, we were hoping our star guest would arrive soon. Again, who it was, we didn’t know. Hope was our only hope; waiting was our only choice of action.

We got our answers yesterday. We realized what exactly we were waiting for. A little child’s review of iStoryTree!

We don’t have to try too hard to make you understand the difference between a review given by a professional, and a layman. A professionals is a child, whereas a layman is, well, you know.

A young parent, Mr Saurabh (a software lead and architect by profession), recently downloaded iStoryTree, and shared his experience with us. Let’s hear it in his words:

‘The clock had struck nine; and having had rice and milk, and having brushed her teeth, it was our regular story time. As our little angel, Doog Doog, climbed into her little bed with Mickey Mouse sheets, two dolls (Rosy and Liza), and a stuffed teddy bear (Mando), I racked my brain for a possible story to tell her. Then it struck me. I had recently purchased your app, iStoryTree. I trotted off to my room and returned with my iPad.

I ran the app, as she lay on the bed, hugging Mando. ‘Wow! What is it?’ she asked.

‘It’s a story book, my dear,’ I said.

‘Which story are you going to read it today?’ she asked, widening her eyes.

Until now I had never let her handle my iPad, for fear she would treat it like one of her toys. After all she is just two, and iPad is $750. But today I was willing to let her handle it, for the reasons known only to my instincts.

‘No, it,’ pointing to my iPad, ‘will read you a story,’ I said.

Together we listened to the story of Crab and the Crane. It was marvelous to watch her expressions changing as the story moved forward. After reading each page, I asked her to tap the characters and other objects. She giggled and laughed and clapped in delight when the characters came alive on the screen, when the clouds moved, when the birds chirped and flew away, and when the fish dived into the water.

Once the story was over, it was time for some fun and games. “Catch Them All” immersed her into the iPad completely. She started catching fish with great alacrity. It was fascinating to see her fine motor skills at play. By now I had handed over the iPad to her completely. I sat beside her on the bed, with my arms around her tiny shoulders as she handled the game expertly.

What amused me more was not the way she played it, but each time the game got over, she tapped back and forth and restarted the game. And I hadn’t taught her to do it. Finally, when she was satisfied, she looked up to me and giggled.

‘Done with the game?’ I asked.

‘What else is there in this?’ she answered with a question.

‘Hmm. Let’s see,’ said I, exploring the options.

There was of course “gallery.” I was about to tap on it when Doog Doog did it herself. Finger-painting page came up to her surprise. I didn’t tell her what to do, for I wanted to see if she could figure it out by herself. And to my surprise, she did. By now she had understood one thing well: all you have to do is tap and slide your finger on the screen. She did just that. After drawing some pictures that could be deciphered only by her, I chose the next feature available on the app: Avatar.

As Jenny the Avatar started narrating the story, using her hands and eyes, Doog Doog sat in silence. Not a word, but plenty of smiles and giggles and widening of eyes. The feature runs for about six minutes, and Doog Doog listened to Jenny three times. She had begun the fourth time when her mom arrived and scolded her sweetly, for staying up till ten o’clock.

‘It’s time to sleep, sweetheart,’ said her mom.

‘Just one more time, mom,’ Doog Doog pleaded.

‘No, no. You can do it tomorrow again. Now go to sleep.’

It almost broke my heart to see my angel sad.

I delicately took the iPad from her hands and kissed her on the cheek. It was finally time for her to go into a fantastical world, where we, adults, are not allowed. Whatever happens there, only she knows. We can only imagine – which is not so easy.’

Mr Saurabh ended his narrative. The little child didn’t say how much she enjoyed iStoryTree, but she showed it. Well, after all, kids understand the difference between telling and showing, between being obvious and being subtle – something most adults don’t.

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