The checkout line that changed everything

We were standing in line at a local store. My daughter had her bag of coins — money she'd carefully saved — ready to buy something she'd been wanting. When it was her turn, she proudly handed over her coins to pay.

The cashier pushed them back. "We can't take this much change. You need real bills."

My daughter was confused. We were frustrated. It wasn't even that many coins — maybe eight or nine dollars worth. But the cashier made it clear this was somehow inconvenient, somehow not real money, even though it was exactly what we'd been teaching our kids to save.

We got through it, but walking out of that store, something clicked. We were setting our kids up for a world that didn't exist anymore.

The piggy bank problem

Think about it: kids are basically the last people on earth still using coins. Adults stopped carrying cash years ago. We tap our phones, swipe cards, check balances on screens. But we were still teaching our seven and nine-year-olds to stuff coins into ceramic pigs.

And it wasn't working. Coins ended up in drawers, pockets, under beds. Some made it into the piggy bank, then curiosity would strike and they'd dump them all out to play with them. When we were at a store and they wanted something, nobody knew how much money they actually had back home.

More than that — when they did their chores, we'd scramble to find coins to pay them. "You cleaned the cat's litter box? Great, now where do I find fifty cents?" They'd hold onto those coins until the next store trip, then forget them at home. The whole system felt like we were teaching them habits they'd have to unlearn the moment they got old enough for a real bank account.

The whiteboard phase

We tried the usual things. Lists on paper that got thrown away when we cleaned the kitchen. A whiteboard that nobody looked at after the first day. We'd have these conversations — "Did you feed the rabbits today?" "I think so?" "Well, did you or didn't you?"

There was no record. No consistency. The kids didn't know what they were supposed to do. We couldn't remember what we'd agreed to pay them for. And honestly, we hadn't really talked through as parents what chores were expectations versus what deserved rewards.

An unexpected solution

I'm not a software developer — I work in IT infrastructure, servers and networks, that kind of thing. But AI coding tools had gotten good enough that I thought: maybe I could build something for our family?

It took months. Early attempts failed completely. Then one day, a better AI assistant came along and suddenly — it worked. I got it running on a tablet at home.

The kids could tap an icon (a dog, a litter box, whatever) to say they'd done that chore. Each task had its own sound. When they completed something, confetti exploded on screen and a crowd cheered. They loved it.

We'd sit down together for "payday" — reviewing what they'd done, talking about it, approving it. No more scrambling for coins. The money went into their digital account. When they wanted to buy something at the store, we'd check the app, buy it with our card, then do a withdrawal from their account when we got home.

It solved the coin problem. But it solved something bigger too.

What actually changed

Our kids started asking different questions. Instead of "Can you buy me this?" it became "What can I do to earn money?" They could see their balance anytime. They knew exactly what tasks were available and what each was worth.

When they wanted something specific, they got motivated. They'd volunteer to empty the dishwasher or clean the bathroom. Not because we nagged them, but because they'd made the connection: work = money = things I want.

We even created a little "store" at home — toys we pre-bought at a discount — so they could see what was possible, decide what they wanted, and strategize how to earn it. Some weeks they're not interested. Other weeks one of them wants a specific toy and suddenly they're very industrious.

The app made it all visible. No guessing, no forgotten promises, no lost coins.

From family solution to Beenli

We ran it for about six months. Friends would visit, see it, and ask: "How can we use this?"

I set it up so technically-minded people could self-host it. But most people couldn't do that. That's when I realized: this needs to be a real product.

The original app was pretty bare-bones. When I started thinking about making it available to other families, I wanted to add some magic. Make it fun, not just functional.

That's when the bee idea hit me. We live in Switzerland, on a farm, surrounded by nature. My wife speaks Swiss German with the kids, and one of their words for a little bee is "Bienli" (BEE-nlee — or think of it like "seen me," as in "have you SEEN ME do this work?").

Bees are worker bees. They collect nectar and pollen, bring it back to the hive, and it becomes honey. Kids do chores, collect "nectar" from their work, tell Beenli about it, and during payday it turns into honey that goes in their jar. It all just... fit.

We added savings goals as "flower patches" — something kids plant and tend over time because big goals take patience. The whole narrative came together around the idea of the family as a hive, working together, everyone contributing.

What Beenli is (and isn't)

Beenli isn't an automatic allowance scheduler. It's not a nagging app that assigns chores. It's not a bank account or prepaid card.

It's a tool that makes effort visible. Kids can tell Beenli what they did. Parents can review and approve it. Everyone can see jars grow and goals get closer. The conversations happen naturally: "Did you really clean the cat's litter box three times today?" "Yes! Once in the morning, once after school, and once before bed because the cat..."

It brings kids into the modern world of digital money without rushing them into actual bank accounts. They learn that money is numbers you track, that work has value, that saving for something takes time and effort.

And it does it all without requiring kids to log in, remember passwords, or navigate complicated interfaces. It's designed for kids who can't read yet — icons, sounds, simple taps. Parent mode adds protection when you need it (with an optional PIN), but for families who trust their kids, you can leave it wide open.

Why we built this for you

That moment in the checkout line stuck with me. Not just because it was awkward, but because I realized we were preparing our kids for a world that had moved on.

Beenli is our answer: a way to teach effort, honesty, and money sense that actually fits how families live now. No scrambling for coins. No lost lists. No invisible work.

Just clear jars, real conversations, and kids who learn that what they do matters — and adds up to something they can see.