Pete's Expert Summary
My human has presented me with what appears to be a pail of small, garishly colored plastic effigies, apparently intended to teach infant humans rudimentary skills I, of course, find laughably simple. These "Baby Bear Counters" from a company ominously named "Learning Resources" are supposed to be for "tactical learning," which I can only assume is a clumsy human term for batting things around. While the sheer number of them—102 little victims—presents a tantalizing opportunity for widespread dispersal and eventual loss under heavy furniture, their static, un-feathered nature and lack of any discernible scent, like, say, catnip, suggests they may ultimately be a monument to my human's poor judgment and a waste of my invaluable energy.
Key Features
- PRACTICE COUNTING, SORTING & MORE: Develop early math skills, counting, sorting, and color recognition with this set of colorful bears
- HANDS-ON TACTICAL LEARNING: These teddy bear counters are great for hands-on tactical learners.
- 102 BEAR COUNTERS WITH ACTIVITY GUIDE & STORAGE: Set includes 102 bear counters in 6 vivid colors, storage bucket, and activity guide printed inside the bucket.
- EACH BEAR MEASURES 1 INCH TALL & WEIGHS 4 GRAMS.SCHOOL SUPPLIES: Homeschool supplies for ages 3+
- GIVE THE GIFT OF LEARNING: Whether you’re shopping for holidays, birthdays, or just because, toys from Learning Resources help you discover new learning fun every time you give a gift! Ideal gift for Halloween, Christmas, Stocking Stuffers, Easter Baskets or even for Homeschool.
A Tale from Pete the Cat
I was holding a high-level security meeting with a dust bunny under the chaise lounge when the incident occurred. My human, with all the subtlety of a falling bookcase, upended a transparent cylinder, unleashing a plastic, multicolored avalanche across the living room rug. A clattering, chattering horde of tiny bears, a silent army of red, green, blue, yellow, orange, and purple, lay frozen in their landing positions. My tail gave a single, irritated twitch. An invasion. And on my watch. I emerged from my command center, my movements low and deliberate. My white paws made no sound on the Persian rug as I approached the nearest grouping—a squad of orange bears who seemed to be conspiring near the leg of the coffee table. I extended a single claw, the very tip, and tapped one of the invaders. It was shockingly light, a mere four grams of hollow defiance. It skittered away with surprising speed, tumbling end over end before coming to a stop near a formidable blue platoon. This was not a foe to be grappled with; this was a foe to be... relocated. This was not play. This was city planning. I was the eminent domain authority of this household, and these squatters were in violation of several zoning ordinances. With a series of precise, sweeping paw strikes, I began the great resettlement. The red bears were rezoned to the dark, cavernous territory beneath the entertainment center. The entire green population was exiled to the mysterious void behind the radiator. I orchestrated a complex billiards-like shot, sending a yellow bear ricocheting off the baseboard and into the open heating vent, a one-way trip to the catacombs of the house. My human made cooing noises, misinterpreting my masterful act of domestic reorganization as some base form of amusement. Let them think what they will. When the last bear had been strategically filed away into the nooks and crannies of the room, I surveyed my work. The rug was clear, the territory secured. These little plastic tokens were, in themselves, worthless. But as tools for demonstrating my absolute and effortless control over the physics of my domain? For that purpose, and that purpose alone, they were utterly magnificent. I will permit their existence.
