Crayola Washable Kids Paint (6ct), Essential Preschool Supplies, Paint Set for Kids, Must Have Arts & Crafts Supplies, Nontoxic, Preschool Learning Activities for Toddlers

From: Crayola

Pete's Expert Summary

My human has procured a set of goopy substances in plastic bottles from the Crayola institution, apparently for the small, loud human's "artistic expression," which is a generous term for what I witness. The primary selling point seems to be its "washability," a feature I appreciate purely for self-preservation, as I have no desire for my immaculate gray and white tuxedo to be decorated in "Fuchsia" or "Teal." The vibrant colors might offer a fleeting moment of visual stimulation as they're smeared across paper, but ultimately, this is not a toy *for me*. The real potential lies in the small, plastic caps, which, once "lost" by the human, could make for a decent skittering puck across the hardwood floors. Otherwise, it’s a spectator sport at best, a potential hazard to my fur at worst.

Key Features

  • CRAYOLA WASHABLE PROJECT PAINT: Washable paint in 6 bold colors including Yellow, Green, Yellow Orange, Red Orange, Fuchsia, Teal, and Blue Violet.
  • PAINT SET FOR KIDS: Washable paint in vibrant hues is perfect for creating kids projects and keeping a stock of craft supplies to use any day and time.
  • SCHOOL PROJECT ART SUPPLIES: School-aged children can get a jumpstart on their school projects with this set of bold colors, which inspire creativity and fun no matter what.
  • MIX AND BLEND VIBRANT COLOR PROJECT PAINT: Smooth, creamy color easily blends to create even more hues. Resealable caps ensures paint stays brand new.
  • WASHABLE KIDS PAINTING SUPPLIES: Crayola Washable Project Paint is washable from skin and most washable clothing.
  • SAFE & NONTOXIC: Ideal for kids ages 3 and up.

A Tale from Pete the Cat

The small human had been banished for its mid-day hibernation, leaving behind a silence that was almost as satisfying as the sunbeam on the living room rug. A peculiar, damp scent hung in the air, a mix of wet paper and something faintly sweet. My curiosity, a muscle I rarely deign to exercise, twitched. I padded silently into the kitchen, my paws making no sound on the cool tile. The scene of the crime was the low table, and I, the chief inspector, needed a better vantage point. A fluid leap, a soft landing, and I was on the case. Before me lay a battlefield. A vast sheet of paper was streaked with what could only be described as the viscera of a rainbow. It was a Jackson Pollock, if Pollock had been three feet tall and powered by juice. I saw no happy suns or lopsided houses; I saw a territorial dispute. A violent splash of "Teal" had clearly ambushed a peaceful "Yellow Orange" settlement. A smear of "Fuchsia" screamed across the page like a comet of pure chaos. I lowered my head, my whiskers twitching as they skimmed just above the still-damp surface, gathering data. The smooth, creamy nature of the medium was evident in the way the colors had surrendered to one another, blending at the edges in a muddy truce. My gaze fell upon the weapons, left carelessly at the edge of the conflict zone. Six plastic bottles stood in a haphazard lineup, their caps askew. They were the culprits, the enablers of this vibrant anarchy. My analysis was interrupted by a shocking discovery. Near the center of the carnage was a single paw print, rendered in a deep "Blue Violet." It was a clumsy forgery, an amateurish attempt to replicate my own elegant paw. I sniffed it. It was an insult, yes, but also a confession. The small human, in its own primitive way, was trying to pay homage to me, its superior. It was mimicking greatness. I had seen enough. The product itself was a messy affair, far too undignified for direct contact. But its result? The story it told on the paper? It was a spectacle of raw, untamed emotion. It was a new piece of art for the gallery of my home, one I could critique from a safe distance each day. My final verdict was this: while I would never touch the stuff, the drama it created was far more interesting than watching the dust motes dance in the air. It was a worthy diversion. I hopped down from the table, my tail held high, and proceeded to the sofa for a well-earned nap to contemplate the abstract nature of it all.