Pete's Expert Summary
It appears the Tall One has acquired a sprawling piece of juvenile real estate from the notorious Fisher-Price corporation, clearly intended for the Small Usurper. This... *contraption* is a soft mat (admittedly, a potential napping upgrade) overshadowed by a garish archway dripping with baubles. I see a jingle ball and a crinkle toy, which show a rudimentary understanding of my needs. However, the main attraction is a loud, light-up "piano" that promises over 85 sounds, a prospect I find deeply threatening to my peace. While the opportunity to gaze upon my magnificent reflection in the provided mirror is tempting, the entire affair seems like a gaudy, noisy waste of floor space that could be better utilized for my afternoon stretches.
Key Features
- Newborn baby gym with 4 ways to play as baby grows, plus music, lights & learning fun
- Smart Stages learning levels with 85+ songs, sounds and phrases that help teach animals, colors, numbers and shapes
- Removeable piano has 5 multi-colored light-up keys, 4 musical settings with freestyle piano play & the popular purple monkey “Maybe” song
- High contrast arch with 10 repositionable linkable toys: 1 jingle ball, 1 butterfly teether, 1 crinkle toy, 1 self-discovery mirror and 6 colorful shape links
- Soft, machine-washable playmat features loops to attach toys
A Tale from Pete the Cat
The thing was assembled in the center of the living room, a monument to poor taste. It sat there, an alien craft of clashing colors and plastic limbs, daring me to acknowledge its existence. The Tall One placed the Small Usurper upon it, who proceeded to gurgle and flail, activating a cacophony of electronic noises. I watched from the safety of the armchair, my tail twitching in profound irritation. The so-called "music" was an insult, particularly a ditty about a purple monkey that made me consider shredding the nearest curtain in protest. This was not a toy; it was an auditory assault weapon. Eventually, the Small Usurper was removed for feeding, and a blessed silence fell upon the room. My curiosity, a beast I can only occasionally tame, got the better of me. I slunk down from my perch, my paws silent on the hardwood floor. I gave the dangling butterfly teether a dismissive sniff—useless. The jingle ball, however, was a classic for a reason, and I gave it a satisfactory *thwack*. But my true target was the piano. It lay there, detached from the arch, its five keys like a row of candy-colored teeth. With the careful, deliberate motion of a bomb disposal expert, I extended a single, pristine white paw. I pressed the blue key. A clear, bright tone rang out, and the key lit up, bathing my paw in an cerulean glow. It was... intriguing. I pressed the green key. A different note, a different light. I was not batting at a toy; I was conducting an experiment. I began to tap out a rhythm, a frantic, syncopated beat that spoke of chasing moths under the moonlight. The keys flashed, responding to my touch. This was not the inane babble it produced for the infant; this was raw power. I lost myself in the composition. My paws danced across the keys in a furious crescendo, a symphony of chaos only a feline mind could conceive. I was a maestro, a prodigy, unleashing my artistic soul upon this crude instrument. The Tall One walked back in, phone in hand, and stared. "Oh, Pete! Look at you!" they cooed, entirely missing the tortured genius of my work. They could never understand. But as they scratched me behind the ears, I allowed myself a low, rumbling purr. The contraption was still an eyesore, but this small, luminous part of it? This part could stay. It had proven itself a worthy canvas for my art.