Pete's Expert Summary
My human, in a moment of questionable judgment, has presented me with a plastic slab they call the "Math Whiz." It is, apparently, a device for the smaller, less-furry humans to practice their rudimentary counting. It is handheld, which I suppose means it can be easily knocked from a hand. It beeps and flashes numbers, which could, in theory, provide a fleeting moment of distraction between naps. However, it is made by "Educational Insights," a name that already saps the joy from the room. It lacks any discernible prey-like qualities—no feathers, no crinkle, no tantalizing string. Ultimately, it seems designed to solve the problem of a small human's boredom, a problem I believe is best solved with a mandated nap, not with a noisy calculator impersonator.
Key Features
- MAKE PRACTICE FUN: Forget the flash cards and practice math operations the fun way; with electronic games like Math Whiz, you can enjoy learning as much as your brain does
- 3 MODES OF PLAY - Maximize the skill-building with Drill Mode, featuring a progressively more difficult sequence of problems; Challenge Mode, a numbers elimination game; and Calculator Mode
- MULTI-GRADE VERSATILITY: 8 levels of difficulty for each skill allow Math Whiz to grow with your child as their learning progresses
- INCLUDES: Math Whiz math game with 3 modes of play at 8 difficulty levels for each skill; compact design makes this perfect for on-the-go learning! Requires 2 AAA batteries (not included)
- THE PERFECT GIFT - Have an upcoming birthday or holiday? Our toys & games make the perfect activity for the home or classroom, no matter the occasion
A Tale from Pete the Cat
The object was placed on my favorite sunbeam spot on the rug, a clear act of war. My human cooed something about "enrichment" and pressed a button. The device chirped to life, its little screen displaying glowing red numbers. They saw a math problem. I, however, saw a challenge of a different sort. This was clearly a faulty food dispenser, a puzzle box of the most infuriating design. The numbers, "3 + 5 = ?", were obviously the combination to unlock the hidden compartment where the freeze-dried salmon treats were stored. The beeps were the taunts of the cruel machine. I approached with caution, my tail giving a low, skeptical twitch. I extended a single, perfect claw and tapped the "8" button. A triumphant little fanfare played. Ah-ha! A clue. The machine was pleased with my progress. Another combination appeared. I ignored the human's babbling about my "genius" and focused on the task. This was a battle of wits between feline and machine. For an hour, I sat there, tapping at the buttons. The "Drill Mode" was a relentless interrogation, while the "Challenge Mode" was a cruel game of elimination, where each wrong guess was a treat denied. My frustration mounted. My paws danced across the keypad, a frantic ballet of calculation and desire. I tried every combination, every sequence, every button-mashing strategy I could devise. Yet, no salmon emerged. The machine simply offered more numbers, more lights, more of its cheerful, mocking beeps. The small human eventually came and picked it up, easily "solving" the puzzles and earning praise. The indignity was absolute. Finally, I understood. This wasn't a puzzle box. It was a decoy. A sophisticated, battery-operated distraction designed to keep my attention while the *real* treats were being consumed elsewhere. Its playability is a lie, a hollow promise wrapped in cheap plastic and irritating sounds. It is not worthy. It is a monument to my human's profound misunderstanding of my needs. I shall show my displeasure by pushing it under the heaviest piece of furniture at the earliest opportunity.
