A long time ago, there was a kid. Not very different from you. She was somebody's daughter. She had questions about how the world worked — the kind of questions a lot of grown-ups don't really know how to answer.

Lucky for her, her dad was the kind of person who didn't pretend to know everything. He just sat with her and they talked. About school. About friends. About the difference between what people say and what they mean. About what to do when somebody treats you like you're less than you are.

They had a lot of conversations. Years of them. Just a man and his kid, talking about how to be a person.

The kid grew up. She turned out okay. More than okay. She knew what she wanted. She knew when something didn't feel right. She held two true things at the same time without falling apart. She learned to be kind without being weak.

One day, when she was almost grown, she said this to her dad: "I wish I'd had a place like this when I was younger — some platform, some curriculum, some thing made for kids to grow through what we talked about."

And then she said: "Then I realized I had it the whole time. All I had to do was talk to my dad."

Her dad realized something. He realized that not every kid has a dad like him to talk to. Not every kid has somebody patient enough to sit with their questions. Not every kid has somebody honest enough to tell them the truth without making them feel small.

But every kid deserves that conversation.

So he took everything he and his daughter talked about — all the years of "what to do when," all the "here's what really happens," all the "you're not crazy for noticing this" — and he turned it into this. Forty worlds. One sun. A whole universe built so other kids could walk through what they walked through together.

This is the conversation. Just made for you.