Pete's Expert Summary
My human seems to believe that because I enjoy digging in my private sand box, I would be interested in this… oversized, dusty brick for their smaller, louder offspring. This "National Geographic Mega Fossil and Gemstone Dig Kit" is a block of compressed chalk containing what they claim are "real specimens." While the promise of shiny gems holds a flicker of interest—anything that catches the light is a potential plaything—the overall concept seems a colossal waste of effort. The appeal for me lies not in the "treasures" but in the secondary benefits: the large cardboard box it arrives in, the delightful mess of dust it will surely create for me to track through the house, and the small brush which, with some effort, I could appropriate for a good chin scratch. The rest is just a noisy distraction from my scheduled afternoon slumber.
Key Features
- YOUR KIDS WILL ENJOY HOURS OF FUN - This extra-large dig brick has 20 incredible gemstone and fossil specimens, allowing your kids to experience the thrill of discovery over and over again. It's sure to become one of their favorite educational activities!
- REAL SPECIMENS YOUR KIDS WILL TREASURE - This digging kit is so exciting because every specimen is genuine. Your children will uncover genuine gemstones and fossils that are millions of years old, making this a truly unforgettable educational toy!
- EVERYTHING YOUR CHILD NEEDS – This National Geographic science kit has all the tools your child needs to dig like the pros! In addition to the dig brick, there’s a chisel, brush, and magnifying glass. Hands-on learning has never been so fun!
- DEDICATED TO EDUCATION – National Geographic STEM kits make learning fun for your child. The hands-on thrill of finding specimens is enhanced by our full-color Learning Guide, packed with information on each of the specimens they discover. Makes a great STEM gift for boys and girls!
- HIGH-QUALITY EDUCATIONAL TOYS - We're proud to make the highest quality hands-on science toys, and all our products are backed by exceptional service. If your experience is less than stellar, let us know and we'll make things right!
A Tale from Pete the Cat
The operation began under the sterile glare of the kitchen lights. My human, the lead surgeon in this farce, spread a plastic sheet across the floor, a clear sign that a mess of epic proportions was imminent. From a box bearing the serious yellow rectangle of the Nature Channel, they produced the patient: a hefty, beige brick of compressed dust. It smelled of earth and neglect. I took up my observation post from atop the refrigerator, my gray tail giving a single, critical flick. This was no mere toy; this was an archeological violation, and I was its sole, unimpressed witness. The human brandished the included tools—a tiny, ineffective-looking chisel and a brush. With a grunt of effort, they made the first incision. A cloud of fine powder erupted, catching the light in a rather spectacular fashion that almost distracted me from my professional duty. Chips of the brick flew. It was a brutal, clumsy procedure. The small human shrieked with a delight I found entirely unwarranted. They were not discovering history; they were dismembering it for sport. Occasionally, they would use the brush to sweep away the debris. I made a mental note to claim that brush later. Its bristles looked firm, yet yielding. Perfect for the hard-to-reach spot just under my jaw. Slowly, the "specimens" began to appear. A dull, ridged shell thing. A sparkly purple rock. A so-called "shark tooth." I scoffed. I've seen sharks on the Big Blinking Picture Box; they are large, grey, and full of delicious fish. They are not made of tiny, pocket-sized rocks. My human consulted a colorful booklet, a propaganda leaflet attempting to assign importance to these mundane pebbles. They held up a piece of fool's gold to the light, proclaiming its beauty. I yawned, showing off my own far more practical and impressive fangs. Their baubles were nothing compared to the perfection of a well-rested feline. After what felt like an eternity of chipping and dusting, the brick was gone, leaving behind a battlefield of chalky residue and twenty trivial objects lined up in a row. The human was beaming. My verdict? A resounding failure. The "gems" were not bouncy. The "fossils" were not edible. The entire endeavor had produced zero new sources of tuna. However, as the human began the cleanup, they left the brush unattended on the edge of the plastic sheet. In a flash of gray and white fur, I leaped down, snagged the tool in my mouth, and retreated under the sofa. The excavation was a bust, but I had secured the only piece of true treasure. The day was not a total loss after all.
