What to put in a time capsule for your child

The mistake almost every time capsule makes is treating it like a museum exhibit: an artifact, a coin, a folded newspaper. Your kid won't care about the newspaper. They'll care about you — what you sounded like, what you were worried about, what you noticed about them when they were too small to remember.

Use this as a checklist. You don't need all of it. Five things, done well, beats forty things half-saved.

The five things that matter most

• A letter from you. Handwritten if you can, typed if you can't. One page. The honest version, not the Hallmark version.
• A voice recording. Sixty seconds of you talking directly to them. That's it. Your voice ages out of their memory faster than your face does.
• A photo of an ordinary day. Not a holiday. A Wednesday. The kitchen, the dog, the half-eaten breakfast.
• Something in their handwriting. A drawing, a signature, a grocery list they "helped" with.
• A date and your name. On everything. Always.

Add these if you have ten more minutes

• A list of their current favorites (food, song, book, person)
• A list of your current favorites — they'll want to know
• A tracing of their hand with the date written inside it
• The story of the day they were born, in your words, not the hospital's
• One thing you currently worry about as their parent
• One thing about them you secretly hope they keep forever

Add these if you want a richer capsule

• A short interview with them — keep the questions, ask the same five every year
• A photo of their bedroom exactly as it is, mess and all
• A song you sing to them — recorded, even badly
• A page from the book you're reading them at bedtime
• A note from a grandparent, aunt, or family friend
• A printed screenshot of your phone's lock screen today

What to skip

• Coins, stamps, and "this year's penny." They don't tell a story.
• Anything battery-powered. It won't work in ten years.
• Long lists of facts about the world. Save one page, not twenty.
• Anything you'd be embarrassed for them to read at fifteen. Save it for thirty instead.

How to keep it from getting lost

Physical capsules get flooded, moved, and forgotten in attics. Hard drives die. Phones break. The safest version of a time capsule today is a private digital one — written once, sealed by date, delivered to your child when they're old enough.

That's exactly what Someday does: you write the letters now, attach the photos and voice memos, and choose the date they'll be unsealed. Free to start, private by default, no algorithm and no audience but your kid.