Pete's Expert Summary
My human, in their infinite and often misguided wisdom, has procured this… thing. It appears to be a cage-like contraption of garishly colored, soft loops, clearly designed by a being with no appreciation for subtle aesthetics. They call it a "Winkel" and claim it's for a "baby," a creature whose primary functions seem to be noise and drool. From my perspective, its lightweight nature and open-frame design suggest it could be quite satisfying to bat across the hardwood floors, sending it skittering into the dark abyss under the sofa. The soft, chewable tubes might offer a pleasant gum massage, a far more dignified use than "teething." However, the trapped cube in the center contains a rattle, and the quality of that sound will be the final arbiter of whether this object is a worthy distraction or an immediate, irritating waste of my valuable napping time.
Key Features
- BABY TEETHING TOY MADE FOR LITTLE HANDS: The Winkel features a mesmerizing maze of soft, continuous BPA-free teething tubes, and can be refrigerated for additional soothing comfort - a perfect baby chew toy for tiny hands.
- DEVELOPMENTAL BABY TOY: Babies are instantly drawn to this colorful and lightweight infant toy. The Winkel promotes clutching and two-handed play while the center cube with tapered corners encases a quiet but pleasing baby rattle to provide auditory stimulus.
- TIME-HONORED CLASSIC: With over 25 years engaging babies and soothing even the fussiest of teethers, the Winkel is a perfect shower gift for new moms. Safe and dependable, this classic toy for babies has received numerous accolades and has proven to be a true baby go-to and parent must-have.
- BABY TOY FOR NEWBORNS AND UP: Safety rated for newborns and up, the Winkel measures 5" x 4" x 3.5" and easily tucks into the diaper bag when baby is on the go.
- STANDING BY OUR BRAND: If you're reading this, you've found a safe toy from a real company and a brand that cares. Since 1978, Manhattan Toy has been a trusted source of imaginative toys for babies, toddlers and kids of all ages. All of our toys are rigorously safety tested and every toy has our 800 number with a dedicated customer support team to answer your call.
- Surface wash only, do not submerge in water
- This product meets or exceeds EN71 and CPSIA safety regulations
A Tale from Pete the Cat
The object landed on the rug with a soft, unassuming thud. The Human placed it there with a cooing sound, not directed at me, but at the small, wailing creature they seem so fond of. I watched from the dignified shadow of the armchair, my gray fur blending into the twilight of the living room. It was a chaotic knot of impossibly bright tubes—an offense to the eye. It looked less like a toy and more like a failed model of some bizarre molecule, a bauble from a dimension with no taste. I dismissed it instantly. Another piece of plastic destined to be covered in slobber and lost under a piece of furniture. My contempt, however, warred with a deeper, primal curiosity. After the Human and its noisy offspring had departed, I slunk from my observation post. I approached the "Winkel" with the silent, deliberate steps of a predator. It smelled of nothing, just the sterile scent of a factory. I extended a single, perfect white paw and gave it the most delicate of taps. It rolled, wobbling on its looped legs, and as it did, a sound emerged from its core. It wasn't the jingle of a bell or the sharp clatter of cheap plastic. It was a soft, dry whisper, like a handful of tiny seeds being shaken in a wooden box. It was a secret. Suddenly, the object transformed in my estimation. This was not a mere plaything. It was an oracle. The tangled tubes were the interwoven paths of fate, the choices and chances of a day. The cube at the center was the heart of the matter, the truth encased in a cage of possibilities. I hooked a claw into one of the soft, pliant loops and pulled it toward me, peering through the structure as if it were a scrying glass. I was not trying to "play"; I was trying to divine the optimal moment to demand my evening meal. I nudged it again, listening to the rattle, interpreting its cadence. A short, quick shake meant "soon." A longer, rolling whisper meant "patience is required." I spent a good ten minutes in quiet consultation with the oracle, batting it gently to ask my questions and listening intently to its hushed replies. It told me of future sunbeams, of the likelihood of a dropped morsel from the dinner table, of the impending doom of a spider in the corner. Its construction, once offensive, now seemed ingenious—a perfect vessel for such subtle prophecy. This "Winkel" was far too profound for a baby. It was a tool for a being of superior intellect and spiritual depth. It was worthy. I would allow it to remain in my kingdom, a silent advisor I could consult between naps.
