Pete's Expert Summary
So, my human seems to think that because I occasionally enjoy batting at the leaves of a real fern, I would be interested in this… kit. It’s a box of plastic bits from the LEGO people, designed to build two fake plants, a dracaena and a pilea. Frankly, the whole concept is an insult to my intelligence. What’s the point of a plant you can’t chew on, knock over to spill dirt, or use to dramatically sharpen your claws? The only conceivable amusement would be batting the 217 tiny pieces under the heaviest furniture possible while the human is trying to assemble them. The finished product, sitting in its unsettlingly cheerful "smiling" pot, would be nothing more than a static dust-collector, occupying a premium napping spot on a desk or shelf. A categorical failure in playability.
Key Features
- DELIGHT YOUNG GARDENERS – Help little ones get growing with the LEGO Botanicals Happy Plants building set for kids ages 9+
- A FUN AND COLORFUL BUILD – Green thumbs will love constructing the baby dracaena plant and baby pilea plants, and deciding which to plant in two adorable smiling pots
- HELP CREATIVITY GROW – Kids can build the plants independently or share the fun by building them with a friend or family member
- BUILD, PLAY, AND DISPLAY – Brighten up any play space, shelf, or desk with LEGO plants that double as whimsical, kid-friendly decor
- GIFT IDEA FOR KIDS – The building kit makes a great birthday or anytime treat for girls and boys, or a fun gift for adults who love plants, crafting, or nature
- BUILD MORE LEGO BLOOMS – These brick-built plants can be combined with other sets (sold separately) in the LEGO Botanicals collection, which includes other trees and LEGO flowers
- DIMENSIONS – The dracaena plant in this 217-piece set measures over 4.5 in. (12 cm) high and 3 in. (8 cm) wide, while the pilea plant measures over 3 in. (7 cm) high and 3.5 in. (9 cm) wide
A Tale from Pete the Cat
The rattle from the box was all wrong. It wasn't the promising rustle of kibble or the gentle crinkle of a new paper bag. It was a dry, soulless clatter of hard plastic. I watched from my throne atop the bookcase as my human spilled the colorful little rectangles onto the coffee table, a tiny plastic quarry. For the next hour, there was only the rhythmic *click-snap* of assembly, a sound that grated on my finely tuned ears. I was deeply, deeply suspicious of this entire endeavor. When the clicking finally ceased, two oddities stood on the table. They were vaguely green and leafy, but rigid and shiny. Worse, they sat in little white pots with black, painted-on smiles, like two court jesters frozen mid-joke. They were impostors, a mockery of the lush, living things I so enjoy tormenting. I narrowed my eyes. These silent, grinning invaders could not be allowed to occupy my territory unchallenged. They possessed no scent, no life, no soul. They were an affront to the natural order. I descended from my perch with the fluid grace of a gray shadow, my white paws making no sound on the rug. I approached the taller one first, the supposed "dracaena." I gave a leaf a tentative pat. It didn't sway or rustle; it just wobbled stiffly on its plastic stalk, its pot-face grinning vacantly at the ceiling. I circled it, my tail a flicking question mark of contempt. This was not a toy. This was not a plant. This was a stationary insult. My mind was made up. With a swift, powerful strike from my tuxedoed foreleg, I sent the plastic fraud flying. It clattered to the floor and burst into a dozen smaller pieces that skittered magnificently across the hardwood. Ah, *now* I understood. The purpose wasn't the building; it was the glorious, chaotic deconstruction. As my human yelped in dismay, I pounced on a stray green brick, sending it careening under the sofa. The smiling pot was defeated, its parts scattered. The toy itself is worthless, but its destruction? A truly five-star experience.
