Pete's Expert Summary
My human has procured a circular plastic device, ostensibly for the education of the smaller, less-coordinated humans that sometimes visit. It features a lever and a spinning arrow which, when aligned with crude illustrations of various creatures, emits their corresponding vocalizations. While the prospect of hearing a digital canary is mildly intriguing, the overall contraption seems designed to generate repetitive, nerve-grating noise. The "quiz mode" is an insult to my intelligence, of course, as I am already intimately familiar with the desperate squeak of a mouse. It's likely a glorified noisemaker that will interfere with at least three of my seventeen scheduled naps, but the lever mechanism does present a faint possibility for a satisfying-if-brief swat.
Key Features
- Interactive early learning toy with 2 pages of animals plus sounds and phrases that teach animal names and their sounds
- Point arrow at animal picture and pull lever to find out its name and hear its sound
- Quiz questions offer toddlers a chance to test their animal knowledge!
- Point arrow to the music note to hear fun songs about the animals.
- Helps strengthen fine motor skills for toddlers and preschool kids ages 18 months and older
A Tale from Pete the Cat
It arrived on a Tuesday, a day usually reserved for silent judgment and a sunbeam that hits the Persian rug just so. The box was loud, the human was louder, and the object that emerged was an offense of primary colors. A "See 'N Say," she called it, placing it on the floor for the benefit of her visiting niece—a tiny creature of sticky fingers and startlingly abrupt movements. I watched from the safety of the armchair, my tail twitching in profound disapproval. The small human pulled the lever. A sound, a horrifyingly cheerful and tinny "MOO," erupted from the plastic disc. I flattened my ears. This was not the dignified, guttural lowing of a true bovine; it was a cheap imitation, an auditory caricature. For an hour, I was subjected to this symphony of sacrilege. The lion's roar lacked majesty, the pig's oink was devoid of any real swinish satisfaction. I had closed my eyes, attempting to meditate my way through the acoustic assault, when a new sound pierced the veil of my annoyance. It was a question, posed by the same cheerful voice from the machine: "Where is the kitty cat?" The small human fumbled, her chubby finger landing on the dog. A sad buzzing noise followed. The machine asked again. The finger landed on the horse. Another buzz. My eyes snapped open. The sheer incompetence was staggering. Slowly, deliberately, I rose from my velvet perch. I stretched, extending each claw for emphasis, and padded silently across the floor. The machine asked the question a third time, its patience an electronic facsimile of the real thing. I stopped directly in front of the small human and the toy, meeting her wide, curious eyes with an expression of cool authority. I then looked pointedly at the illustration of the cat on the disc—a rather poor likeness, but recognizable—and let out a single, perfect, and melodious "Meow." My meow, a sound of pure class and distinction, hung in the air. The small human stared at me, then back at the toy. Her finger, as if guided by my own will, moved with newfound purpose and landed squarely on the cat picture. A triumphant jingle played from the machine. The human clapped. The small human giggled. I, however, simply turned and walked away, my point having been made. The toy was a fool, a purveyor of false sounds and inane questions. But it could, under my direct and obviously necessary supervision, serve as a tool to educate the lesser beings in the house. It was not a toy, but a pupil. And I, Pete, would be its reluctant, and clearly superior, tutor.
