Pete's Expert Summary
My human seems to have mistaken our domicile for a nursery. This... *thing*... is an assemblage of fabric strawberries, clearly intended for a less-discerning, more-drool-prone creature. It's from Melissa & Doug, a brand known for its earnest attempts at "developmental" play, which is usually code for "boring." However, I must concede a few points of interest. The promise of crinkling leaves and satiny ribbons offers a glimmer of potential for a satisfying batting session. The mirror is likely a waste of perfectly good reflective surface, and the rubbery teething ring is an insult to my finely-honed canines. Ultimately, its value will be determined by how vigorously it can be dangled and whether the crinkle sound is sufficiently crisp to interrupt a mid-afternoon nap.
Key Features
- Attach the 3-piece Melissa & Doug strawberry infant toy with peek-a-boo mirror and silicone teething ring to strollers, diaper bags, high chairs, car seats, and more to keep the fun close at hand
- Includes 3 strawberry multi-textured slices with crinkling leaves, a peek-a-boo mirror, satiny ribbons, and a food-safe teething ring
- Multi-textured pieces help kids develop fine motor and sensory skills
- Melissa & Doug infant and toddler toys inspire “a-ha!” moments of discovery. Adorable, diverse characters and a variety of fun shapes and textures encourage exploratory, skill-building play
- Makes a great gift for infants, birth to 1, for hands-on, screen-free play and developmental skill-building
A Tale from Pete the Cat
The artifact arrived clipped to a strange, puffy bag my human kept patting while murmuring about someone named "Jessica's baby shower." I observed from my perch on the back of the sofa, my tail giving a single, dismissive flick. It was a three-headed crimson hydra, a cluster of soft-looking strawberries dangling in a mocking display of primary-colored cheer. One head had a vacant, unblinking eye—a mirror. Another was festooned with flimsy ribbons. They hung there, an affront to the curated elegance of my living room. I decided to ignore it. It was, after all, beneath my notice. Hours passed. The sunbeam I occupied shifted, and a draft carried a sound to my sensitive ears. It was a faint, tantalizing *crinkle*, like a mouse scurrying through dry leaves. My eyes snapped open. The sound had come from the hydra. My human had moved the bag, and the toy had brushed against the wall. The crinkle was a promise, a secret whispered just for me. My resolution to ignore the gaudy thing wavered. The mission was no longer about dismissal, but about interrogation. I needed to know the source of that sound. With the fluid grace of a shadow, I descended from the sofa and executed a flawless, silent stalk across the hardwood floor. I crouched beneath the dangling monstrosity, gathering my formidable haunches. The target was the middle strawberry, the one with the offendingly green, crinkly-looking leaves. I launched myself, not in a clumsy pounce, but in a calculated, upward strike with a single, perfectly extended paw. Contact. The resulting *CRINKLE* was magnificent. It was a symphony of glorious noise, sharp and satisfying. A quick follow-up bat sent the whole apparatus swinging, its satiny ribbons fluttering like captured moths. I landed softly, feigning nonchalance. I glanced into the tiny mirror and saw a flash of my own handsome, tuxedo-clad visage, looking entirely unimpressed. The rubbery ring at the bottom held no appeal whatsoever. But the crinkle… the crinkle was everything. This toy, despite its infantile purpose and its association with lesser beings, had passed the initial test. It was not worthy of my love, of course, but it had certainly earned the right to be vigorously assaulted on a semi-regular basis. I would permit it to remain. For now.
