Pete's Expert Summary
My staff has presented me with a box of unassembled potential. It appears to be a collection of five different buildable contraptions, including a tank, a glider, and several wheeled vehicles, all intended to teach the small, loud human about "science." From my superior vantage point, I see the appeal: multiple small, moving objects to hunt. The solar-powered car is intriguing, as it harnesses the power of my favorite sunbeams. However, the so-called "obstacle avoidance robot" is a deeply offensive concept—a toy designed to *evade* my pounce is an affront to the natural order. Furthermore, its reliance on the human to both assemble it correctly and remember to procure AA batteries makes its potential for amusement highly precarious. This is a gamble; it could be a week of glorious mayhem or a pile of useless plastic.
Key Features
- 5 SET STEM ROBOTICS KIT: These STEM projects include an obstacle avoidance robot, a solar powered car, a tank, a wind powered car and a glider. NOT INCLUDED: AA BATTERIES
- BUILD YOUR OWN ROBOT: This invention kit is suitable for elementary school students to show their talents in a science fair. It can help small inventors explore and learn to solve physical problems by themselves. Fun science activity for kids
- BOY BIRTHDAY GIFT IDEA: Packaged in a beautiful gift box, these electronic STEM toys are best gifts for boys age 6-12
- CRAFT KITS FOR BOYS: About 30 minutes of assembly, you will get a cute craft car or robot
- EASY TO ASSEMBLE: All components of the STEM kit are made with safety materials. Mini screwdriver and step-by-step instructions make it easy to assemble the model
- Stem kits for kids age 6-8
- Stem toys for 7 year old boys
- DIY activities for kids ages 6-8
- Stem projects for kids ages 8-12
- Science kits for kids age 6-8
A Tale from Pete the Cat
The small human spent an eternity on the floor, surrounded by the guts of the box, making noises of frustration that threatened my post-lunch slumber. I watched through slitted eyes from my throne atop the sofa cushions. He was building something. Another one of his flimsy projects, destined to be either broken in minutes or, worse, ignored. Finally, with a cry of triumph, he placed a squat, white-and-blue machine on the hardwood. It had two large wheels and a single, ominous red light for an eye. "Look, Pete!" he chirped, "An obstacle avoidance robot!" I gave a slow, deliberate blink. A what? A machine whose sole purpose was to deny me the satisfaction of the hunt? The audacity. He flipped a tiny switch, and the contraption whirred to life, trundling forward in a straight line. I slid from the sofa, a silent gray shadow. This would be over quickly. I lowered my body, my tail giving a single, authoritative twitch, and prepared to intercept its path near the leg of the coffee table. But as I moved to cut it off, the little robot paused, its red eye blinking, and then it *turned*. It scurried away, neatly avoiding my ambush. The small human giggled. I was not amused. This was no mere toy; this was a challenge. A gauntlet, thrown down on my own territory by a piece of impertinent plastic. So began the duel. I abandoned the direct assault, for this was an opponent of cunning, not of strength. It zagged when I anticipated a zig. It used the open spaces, while I used the cover of shadow and furniture. I became a hunter of a different sort, not of prey, but of pattern. I observed its logic. It would approach a wall, its red eye would flash, and it would pivot. It would sense my approach from the side and veer away. But it was a creature of the floor. It understood the world in two dimensions. I, however, am the master of three. From the arm of the recliner, I watched it make a pass below. Its programming was simple: object on the left, turn right; object on the right, turn left. It had no protocol for an attack from the heavens. I waited for the precise moment it cleared the open space between the chair and the ottoman. Then I launched. I descended upon it not with a pounce, but with a deliberate, calculated placement of my perfectly soft self. I landed squarely on top of it, pinning its wheels. The robot whined, its motor straining uselessly. Its little red eye blinked up at me in what I could only interpret as mechanical terror. I had defeated its logic. I remained there, a furry monument to strategic superiority, until the small human retrieved his vanquished champion. This "toy," I decided, was worthy. It had provided a satisfactory mental exercise. It would be permitted to live and run again tomorrow.
