Pete's Expert Summary
My human has acquired what appears to be a low-slung plastic altar for a much smaller, clumsier human. It’s a foldable table made of offensively bright plastic, designed for stacking other, smaller bits of plastic upon it. The purpose, allegedly, is to teach a human kitten about banal concepts like colors and numbers. Frankly, the entire endeavor seems a monumental waste of perfectly good napping space. However, I will concede a single point of interest: the inclusion of a "rolling vehicle." While the large, unchewable blocks are merely obstacles to be knocked over, a small object designed specifically to move along a track could, with the proper application of paw, provide a fleeting moment of predatory satisfaction. The rest is just clutter.
Key Features
- Portable, folding table building set with a tabletop track and 1 rolling vehicle
- 30 pieces include big building blocks to match and count to learn colors and numbers, and special parts to build a town with market, gas station, traffic light, and more
- Ideal for ages 1+, and endorsed by Fisher Price, First Builders toys are perfect for little hands, providing hands-on play to develop imagination and gross motor skills
- Blocks are compatible with all Mega Bloks building toys for endless learning fun!
- Ships in easy-to-open, 100% recyclable, frustration free packaging!
A Tale from Pete the Cat
The box arrived with an unnerving lack of struggle. My human, usually a flailing symphony of torn cardboard and muttered curses, simply pulled a tab and the brown fortress fell open. From its belly, they extracted a folded blue contraption and a bag of colorful plastic chunks that rattled with a hollow, unsatisfying sound. They assembled it into a small table, a new plateau in the vast topography of the living room. It smelled sterile and faintly of promise. Seeing a new horizontal surface, I did what any respectable feline would do: I claimed it. I leapt atop the table, my soft paws making a dull *thump-thump* on the plastic track, and curled into a perfect circle for a test nap. The cool, smooth surface was surprisingly pleasant. I must have drifted off, lulled by the faint hum of the refrigerator, because the world dissolved. The blue plastic beneath me stretched into a vast, cerulean desert under a sky of white stucco. The blocks I had ignored were now monolithic towers, casting long, geometric shadows. A market stall built of giant, yellow plastic sold nothing. A red gas station offered no fuel. I was a tiny creature of fur and sophistication in a silent, primary-colored metropolis. The track I had lain upon was now a highway, a glossy ribbon that snaked through the blocky architecture and vanished over the horizon. I was alone, and a strange, quiet dread began to prickle beneath my fur. Then I heard it. Not a roar, but a whisper of plastic on plastic. From the edge of my vision, something blue and wheeled emerged, gliding silently along the highway. The rolling vehicle. Its tiny, painted-on smile seemed predatory in the stillness of this plastic dimension. It wasn't racing; it was hunting. I bolted, my paws skidding on the slick surface. I darted behind a green block, my heart thumping a frantic rhythm against my ribs. The car rounded the corner, its unblinking eyes fixed on my hiding spot. It was a harbinger, a relentless agent of this sterile world. It drew closer, a silent, smiling omen of… of what? I didn't wait to find out. With a surge of pure terror, I launched myself toward a towering stack of blocks, a desperate attempt to scale the plastic canyon walls. I awoke with a jolt, fur on end, my claws extended and scraping uselessly against the tabletop. My human was kneeling before the table, holding the little blue car in their hand. The *exact* same one. They smiled and rolled it down the track. It clicked along cheerfully, a harmless piece of plastic. But I knew better. I had seen its true nature in the silent lands of my nap. I leaped off the table, retreating to the safety of the cashmere throw on the armchair. This wasn't a toy. It was a machine for generating unsettling prophecies, a portal to a world devoid of sunbeams, tuna, or decent places to sleep. It is not to be played with. It is to be watched, warily, from a significant distance.
