Pete's Expert Summary
My human, in their infinite and often misguided wisdom, has presented a collection of miniature wooden cylinders and assorted trinkets. They call it "LINCOLN LOGS." I deduce this is a primitive construction kit for small, clumsy humans. The use of real wood is a point in its favor; the scent of stained pine is far superior to that of cheap plastic. The small play figures—a tiny biped, a wolf—are of particular interest as they are perfectly sized for batting under the sofa, a noble pastime. While the act of building the so-called "cozy log cabin" seems a tedious affair best left to those with opposable thumbs, the subsequent and inevitable act of its deconstruction holds a certain appeal. It is, at best, a temporary obstacle and, at worst, a collection of chewable baubles that will soon be lost to the dust bunnies.
Key Features
- Real Wood Logs: all Lincoln Logs sets include meticulously crafted, beautifully stained real wood logs, which are manufactured to the strictest quality standards
- Build & Play: create a cozy log cabin scene with windows and a working door, fun play figures and accessories - a hiker, a Wolf, a tree, and a bonfire!
- Easy to Build: Lincoln Logs easily stack together, allow preschoolers as young as 3 to hone their fine motor skills, hand-eye coordination, and manual dexterity
- Instructions Included: Use the easy-to-follow, step-by-step building instructions or encourage your imaginative builder to design their own creations
- Invented in 1916 by John Lloyd Wright, the son of architect Frank Lloyd Wright, Lincoln Logs have been America's National Toy for generations. Share this nostalgic experience with your loved ones today!
A Tale from Pete the Cat
The scent hit me first, interrupting a perfectly good nap in a patch of afternoon sun. It was the smell of a forest, but a tame, domesticated forest that had been stained and packed in a cardboard box. My human was on the floor, a place they rarely occupy unless dropping food or retrieving one of my "lost" toys. They were meticulously slotting notched brown sticks together. A structure began to rise, a crude shelter that offended my refined architectural sensibilities. When they were done, they placed the final, insulting pieces: a tiny, smiling man with a backpack, a stiff-legged wolf, and a sad excuse for a tree. They had built a diorama of my territory, and they had populated it with interlopers. I rose, stretched with a luxurious arch of my spine that put their clumsy movements to shame, and padded over. The scene was an affront. This little man, this "hiker," stood there beaming as if he owned the place. The wolf, a fellow predator, was frozen in a subservient pose near a plastic tree. Unacceptable. I circled the cabin, my tail giving a slow, menacing twitch. The human had left the tiny door ajar. An invitation for a fool, but I am no fool. I peered through one of the open windows, my enormous gray face filling the entire frame. The hiker didn't flinch. Arrogant. My first move was to correct the hierarchy. A single, precise tap from my paw sent the wolf skidding across the hardwood floor until it disappeared under the entertainment center. There is only room for one apex predator in this living room. Next was the biped. He was standing near a ridiculous little red piece meant to be a bonfire. Another flick of my claw, and he was sent tumbling into the imaginary flames. A fitting end. Now, for the shelter itself. I gave the front wall a solid nudge with my nose. The real wood logs, so carefully stacked, tumbled with a delightful, clattering crash. The deconstruction was far more satisfying than the construction ever could have been. The jumbled pile of logs was now a worthy battlefield, a place to hunt for the vanquished hiker and to celebrate my swift and total victory. My human sighed, but I knew the truth. This wasn't a toy for them to build. It was a challenge for me to conquer. A kinetic sculpture awaiting its inevitable, glorious collapse at my paws. It is a worthy tribute, and I will permit them to rebuild it tomorrow, solely for the pleasure of my razing it to the ground once more.
