Pete's Expert Summary
My Human, in a fit of what I can only assume was profound boredom, has acquired a large box filled with thirty smaller, brightly colored packets. They call it "Model Magic," a laughable misnomer as there is nothing magical about it. It appears to be a squishy, non-toxic substance intended for the clumsy paws of small humans to mash into unrecognizable shapes. The main appeal, from their perspective, is that it can be left out to harden into a permanent testament to their lack of artistic talent. From my superior vantage point, I see its potential for being ground into the fibers of my favorite napping rug. While the sheer variety of colors is mildly stimulating to the eye, its complete lack of a tantalizing scent—no fish, no fowl, not even catnip—renders it almost entirely beneath my notice. It might keep the Human occupied, however, freeing up more time for my own important business.
Key Features
- CRAYOLA MODEL MAGIC VARIETY PACK: This Model Magic modeling clay alternative includes 30 (1 oz) packs in 15 assorted colors (2 of each color), and 1 Idea Guide with tips & project ideas!
- REUSABLE MODELING CLAY ALTERNATIVE: Each pack of Model Magic modeling material is a blank canvas waiting for young sculptors to unleash their talents and skills.
- AIR DRYING: Model Magic can be used again and again, or left to air dry so creations harden and stay intact.
- GOOEY KIDS CRAFTS: Model Magic makes a great soft clay for slime ingredients, enhancing its tactile feel and making it an exciting component in kids’ slime DIY creations.
- ADAPTIVE TOOLS & SENSORY TOYS: Crayola adaptive art essentials and multi-sensory toys cater to kids and artists with diverse needs.
- TEACHER CLASSROOM MUST HAVE: This set of Model Magic 1 oz pouches is a perfect, addition to teachers' classroom arts and crafts supplies collections.
- SAFE & NONTOXIC: Ideal for kids ages 3 and up.
A Tale from Pete the Cat
The affair began not with a bang, but with a series of soft, unsatisfying crinkles. My Human sat cross-legged on the floor, surrounded by a rainbow of flat, plastic-wrapped squares. I watched from the top of the bookshelf, my tail giving a slow, judgmental twitch. They were not making a tribute to me, nor were they preparing a meal. They were, it seemed, communing with these strange, colorful lumps. They tore open a vibrant blue packet and a stark white one, kneading the contents together until they formed a soft, sky-colored ball. Then they began to... build. My initial theory was that they were constructing some sort of primitive shrine, perhaps to the Great Napping Spirit of the Sunbeam. They fashioned a lumpy base and then, with painstaking concentration, began rolling tiny, imperfect spheres. One by one, they stuck these little balls onto the base. It was a tedious, baffling process. I yawned, displaying my magnificent fangs to show just how unimpressed I was. The structure grew, becoming a misshapen, lumpy tower of sky blue. What could it possibly be for? It didn't wiggle. It didn't chirp. It was the antithesis of everything a worthy object should be. Then, a moment of sheer, unadulterated clumsiness occurred. As my Human reached for a new packet, their elbow knocked the entire pathetic construction. It toppled over, landing on the rug with a silent, gentle *thump*. The little spheres, not yet fully attached, scattered across the floor like silent, squishy marbles. Something in my primal brain, an instinct far older than my appreciation for silk cushions, flickered to life. I launched myself from the bookshelf, landing with a soft thud amidst the field of blue orbs. I batted one. It was gloriously light, skittering away before stopping abruptly. I pounced, pinning it under my pristine white paw. The texture was sublime—a firm softness that yielded just enough to be satisfying. My Human stared, mouth agape, before a slow smile spread across their face. They had failed in their architectural endeavor, but had stumbled upon greatness. They gathered the rest of the blue spheres and tossed one toward the hallway. I was a gray and white blur, chasing it down, my heart thrumming with the thrill of a successful hunt. We continued this game for nearly an hour, the little blue balls serving as the perfect, silent prey. They eventually gathered the spheres and left them on the windowsill, where I now know they have hardened into permanent, unyielding rocks. A tragedy. This "Model Magic" is, therefore, a product of fleeting brilliance. It is worthy only in its un-built, pre-hardened state, a temporary gift born from my Human's glorious ineptitude.
