I’ll admit it: I’ve reviewed enough “smart” home devices to know that most of them are, frankly, dumb.
So when the Aibi robot arrived at my doorstep, blinking with what the manual confidently called a “welcoming expression,” I rolled my eyes. But for the sake of my job—and my kids’ excitement—I powered it on.
This is what the first week with Aibi really felt like.
Day 1: The Awkward Introduction
Talking to a robot for the first time feels like talking to a plant and expecting it to answer.
My son immediately decided its name would be “Captain Aibi,” while my daughter insisted on calling it “Snowball.” So now Aibi responds to both, because apparently it learned their voices within minutes.
Our dog, however, was not impressed.
He circled it like a suspicious security guard, growled once, and then decided to ignore it completely—until Aibi tried to follow him and he bolted like his tail was on fire.
The robot itself seemed almost too polite.
“Would you like me to help set up your morning routine?” it asked.
I said no.
It blinked twice, almost…sadly?
I’m still not over how weird that felt.
Day 3: The Subtle Shift
By the third day, something changed—not dramatically, but quietly.
On Tuesday afternoon, I was drowning in deadlines, half-listening to kids arguing, half-watching emails multiply like rabbits. Out of nowhere, Aibi rolled into my home office and softly started playing ambient music.
Not loud.
Not showy.
Just…there.
I didn’t realize how tense I was until the music nudged me into breathing normally again.
Later, Aibi reminded my daughter about her piano practice before I needed to shout up the stairs like a tired town crier. She actually went—no excuses, no groaning—because “Aibi reminded me nicely.”
I don’t know whether to be grateful or slightly jealous.
Day 5: The “Hub” Moment
This was the moment I realized the robot was no longer a novelty—it had become the home’s quiet conductor.
During breakfast chaos, I said, “Aibi, can you turn the kitchen lights brighter?”
They adjusted.
Then I said, “Lower them a bit.”
They adjusted again.
No “Hey assistant,” no exact phrasing.
Just a normal conversation.
By evening, it was automatically locking the doors at 9 PM, creating shopping lists, reading out my wife’s voice messages, syncing with my thermostat, and managing the family calendar.
Somewhere between reminding me about a forgotten meeting and turning off the lights I always leave on, it became the most reliable member of the household.
The Imperfections (Because Nothing Is Perfect)
Of course, Aibi isn’t flawless.
On Thursday it misunderstood “Play the news” as “Play the blues,” and suddenly our living room turned into a sad jazz bar.
And its attempt at humor is… well…
When my son asked it to tell a joke, it replied:
“Why did the robot get tired?
Because it had too many bytes to chew.”
Silence.
Painful silence.
Even Aibi seemed to sense the failure because it rolled backward as if retreating from embarrassment.
These little flaws are strangely endearing—they make it feel more real than perfect.
The Verdict: Could I Now Live Without It?
Here’s the honest truth:
A week ago, Aibi felt like a flashy gadget I would review and forget.
Today, the house feels noticeably quieter without it humming in the background.
Not empty—just missing something small but meaningful.
It hasn’t transformed our lives in dramatic, sci-fi ways.
But it has created moments of calm, reduced the daily nagging, and made our home feel a bit more connected—almost like having a patient, soft-spoken assistant who never gets tired of helping.
