Pete's Expert Summary
My human seems to have acquired yet another garish contraption from the Fisher-Price industrial complex, this one apparently a "gym" for the uncoordinated, tiny human they dote on. It appears to be a soft mat—a potential napping surface of some merit—afflicted with an overhead arch sprouting various dangling objects. While a jingle ball and crinkle toy show a glimmer of promise for batting practice, the main feature seems to be a light-up "piano" armed with over eighty-five songs and sounds. This presents a classic dilemma: the siren's call of a new, soft place to lie, complete with attached entertainment, versus the existential dread of being subjected to a relentless barrage of cheerful, educational noise pollution. It could be a brilliant conquest or a migraine in a box.
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 arrived in a cardboard vessel of exquisite quality, which I immediately claimed. The human, however, seemed to think the contents were the main event. She assembled the plastic monstrosity on the living room floor, a cacophony of clicks and snaps that disturbed my mid-morning slumber. It was a riot of primary colors, an assault on my refined, monochromatic sensibilities. She called it a "Piano Gym," a ridiculous name for a glorified blanket with things hanging from it. I watched from atop the bookshelf, my tail twitching with disdain, as she laid the small, loud human upon it. The creature gurgled and kicked, triggering an avalanche of synthesized music and flashing lights. It was everything I feared. A waking nightmare. Later, a blessed silence fell upon the house. The tiny human had been relocated for its own nap, and the "gym" lay dormant. Curiosity, that traitorous instinct, tugged at my whiskers. I descended from my perch and padded over to the abandoned play-mat. The fabric was, I had to admit, quite plush under my paws. My gaze drifted upward to the arch. Ignoring the pointless mirror and the rubbery butterfly, my attention was snagged by a crinkly leaf and a ball with a bell inside. A single, swift, and expertly placed paw-swipe sent the ball into a satisfying jingle-jangle, its arc a pleasing visual against the high-contrast patterns. This had potential. My investigation led me to the slab of colored keys at the end of the mat. The piano. I regarded it with suspicion. This was the source of the earlier auditory torment. I gingerly placed a paw on the red key. It lit up with a warm glow, emitting a single, clean *plink*. There was no purple monkey, no babble about numbers. Just a note. I tried the blue key. *Plonk*. A different note, a different light. I realized then that the instrument was not inherently evil; it had simply been in the wrong... feet. I began to compose. A slow, deliberate walk across the keys, a percussive masterpiece of my own design, each step a flash of color in the dimming afternoon light. The dangling toys became my orchestra, the mat my stage. The human had bought a toy for her baby, but I had discovered an interactive art installation. It would do.
