Stop me if you’ve heard this one before: It's a quiet evening, the light is dim, and you’re sitting in your favorite rocker chair with your grandchild snuggled up beside you. You open a beloved storybook, and as you begin to read, their eyes light up with wonder. These moments are not just about entertainment—they are almost priceless.

Whenever I investigate people's puzzle-solving origins, the story is often similar, it all began in childhood, typically under the guidance of a beloved family member, like a parent or grandparent. The memories of those intimate moments spent together are always filled with warmth and nostalgia. For many, diving into puzzles as adults is a way to recapture those cherished feelings.

You probably have a story or two like mine growing up. Picture this. It is a Saturday. A day that any kid would believe should be spent sleeping in, homework free, and yours to fill as you saw fit. In my childhood, that was not the case. Rather, we were told to grab your sister, head to the apartment building, and scrub the stairs. No, there wasn't a machine, a mop, or even a Swifter. What we had was a bucket filled with warm water and liquid soap. Our tool? Our elbow grease and a rag.