Pete's Expert Summary
My human, in their infinite and often misguided wisdom, has procured what appears to be a plush, oversized vegetable. Apparently, this 'Avocado Stroller Toy' by Skip Hop is meant to dangle from the tiny human's rolling throne, a jester for an infant. I'll concede, the plush, textured material has potential for a quality cheek-rub, and the notion of prying it open to reveal a rattling 'pit' is a moderately clever puzzle. However, the fact that it is primarily intended for the drooling amateur in the other room means it's likely covered in some sort of sticky residue. It might be worth a cursory bat, but only after it's been thoroughly abandoned on the floor, where all worthy things eventually end up.
Key Features
- Get ready to guac and roll with our adorable avocado stroller toy
- Featuring two halves that are easy for little hands to open and close, inside they’ll find (surprise) a peek a boo rattle “pit.”
- The plush, textured exterior and cute felt details make this a fresh and fun way to entertain baby wherever you go
- Like all our stroller toys and portable baby toys, it has a built in loop and ring so you can easily attach it to the bar of your stroller, infant carrier or other gear
- Two halves open and close to reveal a clear rattle “pit” center with colorful beads
- Plush, textured material
A Tale from Pete the Cat
The human brought the strange, green object into my domain and presented it not to me, but to the small, loud one. An insult, but I am patient. They called it an "avocado," a ridiculous name for what was clearly a capsule, a vessel containing some unknown quantity. I observed from my post on the armchair, feigning disinterest. The human would split it open, revealing a clear sphere filled with chattering pebbles, then close it again. It was a demonstration, a challenge. They were showing me the safe, and its contents, before locking it once more. That night, under the sliver of moonlight filtering through the blinds, my investigation began. The capsule lay on the rug, a silent green moon. I approached with the low, predatory crouch I usually reserve for dust bunnies of unusual size. A thorough sniffing revealed the scents of the factory it came from, the human's hands, and the faintest whiff of baby powder—a contaminant, but manageable. My mission was clear: breach the hull and assess the payload. I worried it with my teeth, but the plush exterior offered no purchase. This was not a job for brute force. Recalling the human's technique, I hooked a single, perfect claw into the felt stem at its apex and pulled. The soft ripping sound of Velcro was the sweet music of a vault yielding its secrets. Inside, the transparent core tumbled out. The prize. I nudged it with my nose. It rolled, emitting a frantic, chattering sound. It was speaking a language of pure chaos, a delightful symphony of kinetic energy. I batted it. It skittered across the hardwood, its rattling voice echoing beautifully in the quiet house. It was a conversation. "Come and get me," it sang. "I am speed." I spent a glorious hour herding the chattering sphere, cornering it behind the leg of the coffee table and pouncing with theatrical flair. The green, empty shell of the capsule became my victor's pillow, a soft trophy upon which to rest my chin between skirmishes. The verdict? The vessel itself is merely adequate—a bit too green, a bit too cheerful. But the treasure within, the rattling core, is an absolute delight. A primitive but effective device for honing one's hunting prowess. It is worthy. The human can keep the empty husk for their noisy offspring; the rattling soul of this avocado now belongs to me.
