Pete's Expert Summary
My human has brought home a box of rocks and sand, masquerading as a "Clean Water Science" kit. From what I can gather, it’s a contraption of plastic tubes and filters meant to teach the smaller, noisier human how to turn dirty water into clean water—a skill I find laughably primitive, given the existence of faucets. The educational premise is, of course, a complete waste of my time. However, the slow, hypnotic drip of water through the apparatus might offer a moment of contemplative distraction, and I suppose the tiny rocks and bits of carbon could be repurposed for a proper game of "lose the toy under the heaviest piece of furniture." It's a questionable use of counter space, but not entirely without potential for a cat of my ingenuity.
Key Features
- This personal desalination kit demonstrates the scientific way to extract salt from sea water.
- The kit contains a plastic filter system, active carbon, sand, rock and filter paper.
- Perfect for young science enthusiasts, especially those with an interest in chemistry and the environment.
- Detailed instructions for use and care are included.
- Recommended for ages 8 years and up.
- Challenge your child's imagination with 4M toys and kits.
- 4M educational toys cover a wide range of educational subjects and include science kits, arts and crafts kits, robotics kits, and more.
- 4M offers a wide range of toys and kits to let you build a clock, crochet a placemat, or turn your room into a planetarium--all in the name of making learning fun.
- This personal desalination kit demonstrates the scientific way to extract salt from sea water
- Learn the science of cleaning and reusing dirty water by conducting interesting water purification experiments
- Each kit contains a plastic filter system, active carbon, sand, rock, filter paper and instructions
- Just add a water glass
- Create a "Green Science" project
A Tale from Pete the Cat
It was a dark and stormy Tuesday—or at least, it was dark under the kitchen table where I was conducting important surveillance. That's when the case landed on my desk, which is to say, the human plopped a box on the counter. The box had a dame on the front, a tall, clear plastic job, all stacked up and promising to turn the low-down dirty into the straight and narrow. The human called it a "science kit." I called it trouble. He opened it up, and the whole joint smelled of dust, rock, and cheap plastic. This wasn't my kind of gig. I jumped onto the counter for a closer look, a feline shadow in a tuxedo. The evidence was all there, laid out like suspects in a lineup. There was Sand, a shifty character if I ever saw one, coarse and unwilling to talk. There was Carbon, a dark, mysterious type who absorbed everything and gave nothing away. And then there were the Rocks, a bunch of dumb muscle, heavy and silent. The whole operation was being run by a series of plastic tubes and filters, a transparent racket if you asked me. The victim was a glass of murky water from a puddle outside, full of character and untold stories. They were about to clean its clock, literally. I watched from my perch atop the refrigerator as the humans, the Big Guy and his little accomplice, went to work. They poured the victim into the top funnel. The whole thing was a slow, agonizing process. Drip. Drip. Drip. Each drop was a confession, forced through layers of sand and stone, stripped of its identity. I watched, my tail twitching, as the water’s soul was bleached away. It was a meticulous, cold-blooded execution of everything interesting. In the end, all that remained was a small amount of clear, sterile, utterly bland water in a beaker. The humans cheered. They’d solved the "problem." I knew better. They hadn't solved anything; they'd just sanitized the truth. This wasn't science, it was a shakedown. I turned my back on the whole sordid affair. Let them have their clean water. I prefer my world with a little more grit. Case closed.
