Pete's Expert Summary
My human seems to believe that my happiness is directly proportional to the amount of crinkly plastic and dismembered objects she can scatter across the living room rug. This latest offering is a baffling ritual in a box: a plastic homunculus is flayed from a plush, blue, and oddly morose-looking creature's skin, only to be adorned with tiny, losable trinkets. The supposed appeal lies in a series of "surprises" and some water-based parlor trick involving its hair. From my superior vantage point, the only parts of this ceremony with any potential are the soft, fleece-like pelt, which might make a passable chin-rest, and the miniature version of the grumpy blue thing. Everything else appears to be a monumental waste of manufacturing resources and, more importantly, my time.
Key Features
- With 10 surprises in 1 package, Barbie Cutie Reveal Care Bears dolls deliver the cutest unboxing experience with plush friends, fashions and transforming fun!
- Which doll will you reveal? Unbox to find fan-favorite Grumpy Bear with blue plush costume featuring a frown face and rain cloud graphic -- so cute and lovable!
- Lift the costume head and reveal a Barbie fashion doll with long, brown hair streaked with blue, posable joints and twinkle-shine eye details!
- Open the 4 surprise bags to find fashions and accessories like a skirt, headband, sunglasses, pair of shoes, sponge-comb and matching mini Grumpy Bear!
- Kids can dress and style Barbie doll by reversing the costume top to find a super-soft fleece jacket with a fun print -- the costume head turns into a bed for the mini Care Bears friend, too!
- Use icy cold and warm water to transform Barbie doll's hair with color streaks and a new look -- repeat again and again!
- This series of Barbie Cutie Reveal dolls make a great gift for kids 3 to 7 years old, especially fans of the Care Bears and those who love spreading sharing, caring and togetherness!
A Tale from Pete the Cat
It began, as these things often do, with a ceremony on the floor. My human and the smaller, more chaotic human she sometimes invites over were gathered in a state of high reverence, their voices pitched in that squealing frequency that grates on my sensitive ears. They tore into the box like scavengers, revealing a plush blue head with a permanent frown. For a moment, a flicker of kinship sparked within me. Here, I thought, is a creature that understands the inherent misery of existence. But my hopes were dashed when they skinned it, revealing a vacant-eyed plastic effigy beneath. The skinning was followed by the ritualistic opening of several small, crackling packets, each revealing a tiny, useless artifact—a comb too small for any real fur, shoes that would fit a beetle, a skirt of offensive shininess. They arranged the idol and its new trinkets, chattering about its "posable joints" and "twinkle-shine" eyes, which I noted were entirely soulless. Then came the high rite: the Anointing of the Water. They carried the plastic figure to the water shrine—the one they call the "sink"—and performed ablutions with icy and warm water. They gasped in feigned wonder as the idol’s synthetic hair shifted in hue. I watched from the arm of the sofa, utterly unimpressed. They were a primitive cult, worshipping a plastic godling whose only miracle was a cheap thermochromic dye reaction. It was pathetic. When their fervor finally subsided and they abandoned the altar for inferior pursuits like "snack time," I descended to inspect the aftermath. The main idol was cold and hard, smelling of factory chemicals and disappointment. I nudged one of its tiny shoes with my nose, then expertly batted it into the dark abyss beneath the entertainment center, a small offering to the void. My work seemed done. But then I saw it. The plush head of the Grumpy Bear, now repurposed as a "bed," held a tiny, bite-sized replica of itself. This was the true offering. The cultists, in their ignorance, had overlooked the only object of worth. I gently took the mini-bear in my mouth—its texture was satisfactory, its size perfect for a triumphant trot—and carried my prize away to my lair under the bed. The idol could keep its shiny skirt; I had claimed the only part of the ritual that truly mattered.
