Pete's Expert Summary
My human, in a rare display of good judgment, has acquired a significant piece of wooden architecture. They seem to think this "Jonti-Craft Changing Table" is for the loud, wobbly miniature human, but I see it for what it truly is: a multi-level observation deck and fortified napping fortress, built specifically for me. It boasts a private, retractable staircase, a far more dignified mode of ascent than leaping, and its high railings promise unparalleled security for mid-afternoon slumbers. The closed storage is a minor inconvenience, hiding potential treasures, but the inclusion of what they call a "paper roll dispenser"—which I recognize as a self-replenishing shreddable streamer—is an act of pure genius. This is not a piece of nursery furniture; it is a throne, and I am cautiously optimistic about its potential.
Key Features
- DEEP RAILS & SAFETY STRAP - Jonti-Craft's Changing Table will put your mind at ease. The 4 raised sides and safety strap protect children as they're having their diaper changed. It's perfect for your home, daycare, nursery, school, and more.
- PULL OUT STAIRS & STORAGE SHELVES - Our changing station has pull-out stairs for your toddler that conveniently glide under the table when not in use. The 3 spacious shelves are behind closable doors for safety. It also a paper roll dispenser.
- MINIMAL ASSEMBLY - This toddler changing station is easy to assemble and arrives with detailed instructions for simple installation. The durable construction of the furniture features a hardboard recessed back for additional structural support.
- DESIGNED WITH KIDS IN MIND - We've rounded the edges and corners so kids can play without getting hurt. The sturdy wood construction is durable enough for daily use and is easy to clean. Our diaper changing station meets CPSIA/ASTM requirements.
- DIMENSIONS - This baby changer is the perfect height for diaper changing. Our Changing Table with Stairs is 39" high x 48" wide x 22.5" deep, and weighs 145 lbs. It comes with a removeable changing pad.
A Tale from Pete the Cat
Its arrival was an affront. A massive cardboard box, an invader in my territory, disgorging clumsy wooden slabs that smelled of sawdust and industry. My human spent the better part of an afternoon grunting and consulting flimsy parchment, assembling the monolith while I watched from the safety of the sofa, tail twitching in silent, severe judgment. Another piece of bland, functional clutter, I presumed. It was large, imposing, and stood exactly where a prime sunbeam was scheduled to appear in one hour. This was an act of war. Once assembled, it loomed. A wooden altar to banality. The human cooed at it, demonstrating its features to the empty room. They opened and closed the cabinet doors, which I noted were disappointingly latch-free and thus offered no real challenge. They patted the soft pad on top, a clear invitation I had no intention of accepting. And then, they did something that shifted my entire worldview. With a gentle tug, a set of three perfect, cat-sized stairs slid out from beneath the main platform. It was not a clumsy ladder or a crude ramp. It was a grand, private staircase. My cynicism faltered. This was no mere piece of furniture. This was a purpose-built ziggurat. A temple. The stairs were not for the stumbling little human; they were a royal procession, a path to a higher plane of existence, laid out for their one true master. I approached with the gravitas the moment demanded, ignoring the human’s foolish "Look, Pete, isn't that neat?" I placed a soft, grey paw on the first step. It was solid. The construction was, I had to admit, impeccable. I ascended, one deliberate step at a time, until I reached the summit. The view was glorious. From this new elevation, I could see the entire living room, the kitchen, and the hallway leading to the forbidden bedrooms. The deep railings were not a constraint but the parapets of my castle. The soft pad was not a changing mat but a royal cushion, perfectly shaped for a preliminary curl-up. As I settled in, my gaze fell upon the paper roll dispenser. A source of endless parchment, right at paw's reach. I could issue my decrees and immediately shred them in a fit of pique. This Jonti-Craft apparatus wasn't just a toy or a perch. It was a seat of power. It was worthy.
