The question every parent knows
Our little one was a few days old. It was 3am, the house was dark, and I was walking slow circles down the hallway with a tiny, warm weight on my chest.
My partner woke up and whispered the question every new parent knows. When did the baby last eat?
I didn’t know. I had written it down somewhere. On a scrap of paper in the kitchen. Or in my phone. Or maybe I only meant to.
A notebook we kept losing
In those first weeks we tried everything. Notes on the fridge. A chat with just the two of us. Three different apps.
The paper got lost. The chat got buried under photos. The apps wanted an account before we could log a single diaper. One showed us ads in the middle of the night. Another sent our data to places we couldn’t name.
I build apps for a living. So I did what I always do. I read the privacy policies. I didn’t like what I found.
Our baby’s first days aren’t data to sell. They’re our family.
A promise we made at home
The hours your baby slept. How much milk they drank. A note about a rash that worried you at midnight. That isn’t data. That’s your family, and it should stay with you.
So I made a promise to my partner and to our little one. If I built something, it would never show ads. It would never sell a single thing about us. It would work without an account. And it would keep everything in Europe, close to home.
Built at the kitchen table
I started Moraki in the short gaps between feeds. One hand on the keyboard, the other rocking the bassinet.
Every screen got tested the hard way: at night, half asleep, with one thumb. If a button was too small at 4am, it got bigger. If something took three taps, it now takes two.
My partner was the toughest tester. If it didn’t work in the dark with a baby on one arm, it wasn’t done.
Why μωράκι
In Greek, μωράκι means “little one”. It’s the word you whisper when a baby finally falls asleep on your shoulder. Soft, small and full of love.
The logo is two arches and a dot. Two parents, one little one.
For every parent awake right now
Moraki is for the parent on the night shift. For the grandparent who babysits on Tuesdays. For the nanny who wants you to know lunch went well.
It’s one shared notebook, so nobody has to ask, and nobody has to remember alone.
And if you’re reading this at 3am with a baby on your chest, you’re doing better than you think. We’ve been there. Some nights, we still are.
Makis and familyCyprus
