A Letter To My Children, Olivia & Sam

Honestly, I'm Terrified...

Jun 6, 2025

Reading Time:

4 minutes

Dear Olivia & Sam,

It’s May 25th, 2025. You might remember the day.

Steve flew in from Canada. We shipped you both off to my Mums, under strict instructions not to give you sugar. So naturally, Steve handed over Yoda and Chewie PEZ dispensers just as you were leaving. Classic parenting. 🙂

It’s been a profound weekend.

On Thursday, I thought I was just teaching AI. That was the plan after all. But the more Steve, Mummy and I talked, the more it became clear: we weren’t just running a mastermind - we were building a lifeboat.

A place for people who feel like the world’s moving too fast.
A place where failing isn’t a flaw—it’s the proof you’re in the arena.
A place where AI isn’t the enemy—it’s the oxygen mask.

Because the truth, my minions, is this: the world is teetering. You’re both too young for the full story (and that’s a blessing). You still believe that a kiss on the forehead and a cuddle can make monsters go away. You still think Mummy and Daddy can stare down the dark and win.

God, I hope you’re right.

Because when you’re old enough to read this, you’ll know: the game is changing. Capitalism—at least the version we’ve lived in—is wobbling. AI is ripping through the job market faster than we can retrain people. The loop’s breaking. Fewer people have money to buy the things others are trying to sell. It’s not sustainable. The next five years are going to be brutal.

And honestly? I’m terrified.

We brought you into a world that’s disappearing like quicksand. And I keep asking myself: when you’re older, how are you going to find meaning? What’s going to make you feel proud? Fulfilled? Useful?

I was at dinner the other night and a woman said to me,

“Sounds like you’re staring down a tidal wave with a seaside bucket.”

She wasn’t wrong.

But I looked her in the eye and said,

“When your kids are on the beach, what the fuck else would you have me do?”

So here I am. Bucket in hand. Building something that might—just might—help.

And I hope that one day you read this, and you see the truth:

That all those days I missed when I was traveling, I wasn’t just running a business.

I was gathering people. People who gave a damn.

People willing to stand up, show up, and fix what’s broken.

People who wanted to pick up a bucket and stand next to me.

Because humanity is fucking awesome.
And it's worth fighting for.

Love you more than you’ll ever know,

Dad

A Letter To My Children, Olivia & Sam

Honestly, I'm Terrified...

Jun 6, 2025

Reading Time:

4 minutes

Dear Olivia & Sam,

It’s May 25th, 2025. You might remember the day.

Steve flew in from Canada. We shipped you both off to my Mums, under strict instructions not to give you sugar. So naturally, Steve handed over Yoda and Chewie PEZ dispensers just as you were leaving. Classic parenting. 🙂

It’s been a profound weekend.

On Thursday, I thought I was just teaching AI. That was the plan after all. But the more Steve, Mummy and I talked, the more it became clear: we weren’t just running a mastermind - we were building a lifeboat.

A place for people who feel like the world’s moving too fast.
A place where failing isn’t a flaw—it’s the proof you’re in the arena.
A place where AI isn’t the enemy—it’s the oxygen mask.

Because the truth, my minions, is this: the world is teetering. You’re both too young for the full story (and that’s a blessing). You still believe that a kiss on the forehead and a cuddle can make monsters go away. You still think Mummy and Daddy can stare down the dark and win.

God, I hope you’re right.

Because when you’re old enough to read this, you’ll know: the game is changing. Capitalism—at least the version we’ve lived in—is wobbling. AI is ripping through the job market faster than we can retrain people. The loop’s breaking. Fewer people have money to buy the things others are trying to sell. It’s not sustainable. The next five years are going to be brutal.

And honestly? I’m terrified.

We brought you into a world that’s disappearing like quicksand. And I keep asking myself: when you’re older, how are you going to find meaning? What’s going to make you feel proud? Fulfilled? Useful?

I was at dinner the other night and a woman said to me,

“Sounds like you’re staring down a tidal wave with a seaside bucket.”

She wasn’t wrong.

But I looked her in the eye and said,

“When your kids are on the beach, what the fuck else would you have me do?”

So here I am. Bucket in hand. Building something that might—just might—help.

And I hope that one day you read this, and you see the truth:

That all those days I missed when I was traveling, I wasn’t just running a business.

I was gathering people. People who gave a damn.

People willing to stand up, show up, and fix what’s broken.

People who wanted to pick up a bucket and stand next to me.

Because humanity is fucking awesome.
And it's worth fighting for.

Love you more than you’ll ever know,

Dad

A Letter To My Children, Olivia & Sam

Honestly, I'm Terrified...

Jun 6, 2025

Reading Time:

4 minutes

Dear Olivia & Sam,

It’s May 25th, 2025. You might remember the day.

Steve flew in from Canada. We shipped you both off to my Mums, under strict instructions not to give you sugar. So naturally, Steve handed over Yoda and Chewie PEZ dispensers just as you were leaving. Classic parenting. 🙂

It’s been a profound weekend.

On Thursday, I thought I was just teaching AI. That was the plan after all. But the more Steve, Mummy and I talked, the more it became clear: we weren’t just running a mastermind - we were building a lifeboat.

A place for people who feel like the world’s moving too fast.
A place where failing isn’t a flaw—it’s the proof you’re in the arena.
A place where AI isn’t the enemy—it’s the oxygen mask.

Because the truth, my minions, is this: the world is teetering. You’re both too young for the full story (and that’s a blessing). You still believe that a kiss on the forehead and a cuddle can make monsters go away. You still think Mummy and Daddy can stare down the dark and win.

God, I hope you’re right.

Because when you’re old enough to read this, you’ll know: the game is changing. Capitalism—at least the version we’ve lived in—is wobbling. AI is ripping through the job market faster than we can retrain people. The loop’s breaking. Fewer people have money to buy the things others are trying to sell. It’s not sustainable. The next five years are going to be brutal.

And honestly? I’m terrified.

We brought you into a world that’s disappearing like quicksand. And I keep asking myself: when you’re older, how are you going to find meaning? What’s going to make you feel proud? Fulfilled? Useful?

I was at dinner the other night and a woman said to me,

“Sounds like you’re staring down a tidal wave with a seaside bucket.”

She wasn’t wrong.

But I looked her in the eye and said,

“When your kids are on the beach, what the fuck else would you have me do?”

So here I am. Bucket in hand. Building something that might—just might—help.

And I hope that one day you read this, and you see the truth:

That all those days I missed when I was traveling, I wasn’t just running a business.

I was gathering people. People who gave a damn.

People willing to stand up, show up, and fix what’s broken.

People who wanted to pick up a bucket and stand next to me.

Because humanity is fucking awesome.
And it's worth fighting for.

Love you more than you’ll ever know,

Dad

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Contact

Enhance your business

Provide details (five to ten sentences) and within 24 hours I will contact you to book a call, plan an effective strategy together, and start providing AI that works.

Let's connect!

Contact

Enhance your business

Provide details (five to ten sentences) and within 24 hours I will contact you to book a call, plan an effective strategy together, and start providing AI that works.

Let's connect!