Geomag review: What happened when our five-year-old tried his hand at engineering

In some families, children are encouraged to become footballers, musicians or perhaps the next Prime Minister. In a Persian household, there’s a reasonable chance someone will suggest engineering before the child has mastered his shoelaces.

The Persian word mohandes means engineer, a profession that commands considerable respect. H is one himself, so Cyrus has grown up with a father who understands how things work and occasionally feels compelled to explain why. I appreciate this, particularly when something expensive breaks, although I sometimes wonder whether our son might eventually choose poetry or interpretive dance just to keep us guessing.

At five, Cyrus is more interested in building things than choosing a career. So when two Geomag construction sets arrived for review, H was delighted. Here was a toy involving magnets, structures and engineering principles, and I could almost see him preparing a lecture on the subject. Cyrus was considerably less interested in the theory and simply wanted the box opened. Given our family’s enthusiasm for Persian traditions and cultural expectations, I suspect H was already imagining a future engineer in the family.

We wanted to see whether a collection of magnetic rods, steel balls and coloured panels could encourage Cyrus to explore shapes, structures and the science behind them.

Geomag is a Swiss construction toy consisting of magnetic rods, steel balls and, in some sets, coloured panels. Children connect the components to create three-dimensional structures, from basic geometric shapes to elaborate buildings. We received the Classic Panels 35-piece set and Classic Confetti, an 83-piece collection. At the time of our review, they cost £12.99 at Smyths and approximately £35 on Amazon respectively.

Geomag introduces elements of science, technology, engineering and maths (STEM) through practical play. The magnetic connections demonstrate a scientific principle, while constructing stable shapes encourages children to consider balance and design. We’d explored similar ideas with Domino Robot Factory and Strictly Briks, although Cyrus was younger then. Now he was ready for something more ambitious, particularly if it involved building something taller than his father’s coffee mug.

Cyrus began by studying the illustrated instructions, selecting rods and positioning steel balls with the concentration of someone entrusted with an important building contract. There were towers, geometric shapes and bridges. Some stood remarkably well, while others appeared to have been designed by a committee that had never met. Living in Newcastle, we’re spoiled when it comes to impressive engineering. The Tyne Bridge has dominated the city’s skyline since 1928, although Cyrus’s version stretched across our living room carpet and survived approximately as long as it took him to add another rod.

I instinctively reached forward to help when the bridge collapsed, while H wanted to establish why the structure had failed. Cyrus listened politely before rebuilding it according to his own specifications, apparently unconvinced that a qualified engineer necessarily knew better. It reminded me of our visit to Newcastle’s Discovery Museum, where the city’s industrial heritage provided another opportunity to explore how things work. At home, however, there was considerably less concern about historical preservation when something came crashing down.

The experiments soon extended beyond construction when Cyrus discovered that his magnetic rods attracted certain household objects. The fridge became his first testing ground, followed by coins and various other items he considered worthy of investigation. Some attracted the magnets, while others didn’t, which prompted H to explain the difference. To his credit, he exercised admirable restraint in keeping the discussion suitable for a five-year-old rather than an engineering undergraduate.

What interested me was that Cyrus had initiated the investigation himself. Nobody had handed him a worksheet or instructed him to identify magnetic materials. He was curious, and one discovery led to another. We’d previously explored related scientific ideas with a magnetic marble run, which introduced him to gravity and movement. Geomag offered a different challenge, concentrating on the structures themselves. It was an entertaining reminder that a useful science lesson doesn’t always require specialist equipment or a carefully organised activity.

Adults spend considerable energy avoiding mistakes, yet children often approach them with refreshing indifference. When a construction collapsed, Cyrus examined the pieces and started again, occasionally making small adjustments before deciding that the entire design needed reconsidering. Sometimes he asked H for advice, although he generally preferred his own methods. There was no pressure to produce a perfect model, and nobody was marking his work. He could experiment without worrying about whether the finished structure resembled the picture on the box.

I’ve written before about my uneasy relationship with maths in our earlier Geomag STEM review. Watching Cyrus explore shapes without the anxiety I associated with school mathematics was encouraging. I wouldn’t claim that playing with magnets automatically improves academic performance, but I could see him concentrating on practical problems and finding solutions that made sense to him. For a five-year-old, that seemed a perfectly worthwhile achievement.

Geomag promotes recycled plastic in parts of its range, although the proportion varies between products. That doesn’t automatically make a newly manufactured toy environmentally friendly, particularly when production, packaging and transport are considered. Its practical advantage is reusability, with the same pieces offering opportunities to create different structures without requiring another purchase. A bridge can become a tower, a house or something so architecturally ambitious that even H struggles to identify it.

Of course, longevity depends on whether a child continues playing with the pieces. I’ve bought enough supposedly wonderful toys over the years to know that a cardboard box sometimes provides considerably more entertainment than its expensive contents. Geomag at least offers the possibility of returning to familiar components and discovering something different, rather than completing a single activity and putting everything away.

Both sets impressed us, although they offered slightly different experiences. Classic Panels provided a manageable introduction, with clear illustrations and enough pieces to construct recognisable shapes. The larger Confetti collection offered greater scope for ambitious designs, which suited Cyrus as his confidence developed. Neither required batteries or complicated preparation, although parents should follow the manufacturer’s age guidance because the small steel balls and magnets present a serious swallowing hazard.

Geomag won’t turn every child into an engineer, and nor should that be the expectation. What it offered Cyrus was an enjoyable way to investigate scientific ideas while pursuing his own interests. For H, it was an opportunity to share something connected to his profession, and for me, the pleasure was watching them together on the living room floor, discussing a construction that looked suspiciously unlikely to survive. Whether Cyrus eventually becomes a mohandes is entirely his decision, although if he invents a machine capable of making Persian kebabs without leaving the kitchen covered in marinade, I certainly won’t complain.

Occasional stories, experiments, discoveries and questions from Saffron & Cyrus.