Not in a factory, not in a studio with a name on the door. At a bench in our own house, with wood dust on the floor and someone's dinner going cold in the other room.

Every piece has a name on it. Before we make one, we read the name out loud — partly to catch a spelling, partly because it makes the whole thing real. Somewhere there's a person who has just arrived, or is about to, and someone loved them enough to have their name cut into wood.

That's what we're actually making. Not signs. Not boxes. The thing that ends up in a drawer, and then in a box in a closet, and then in someone's hands thirty years later when they're grown and their mother is showing them what she kept.

So we make everything to order, one at a time. There's no honest way to do it otherwise when every single one is different. We sand until it's smooth enough for small hands. We tie every ribbon ourselves.

Thank you for letting us be a small part of it.