Pete's Expert Summary
My human, in their endless quest for brightly colored plastic, has presented this. It appears to be a series of small, stackable towers from Mattel, each containing a miniature human figurine they call a "Princess" and her various tiny accoutrements. The primary gimmick is the "surprise," which is a concept I understand as "something the human shrieks about while tearing open packaging." While the static nature of the dolls themselves holds little appeal for a creature of action such as myself, the true potential lies in the accessories. The promise of a tiny animal companion figure—a mouse or a fish—is a particular point of interest, a silent effigy awaiting its glorious liberation and subsequent batting under the heaviest piece of furniture. The stackable nature is merely an invitation for catastrophic, gravity-assisted reorganization. It seems less a "playset" and more a pre-packaged collection of things for me to eventually claim as my own.
Key Features
- With a mystery small doll and four more surprises, Tower Surprise toys deliver the Disney Princess fun in a charming small scale!
- Open the tower playset to reveal a posable Princess doll (3.5 inches) with a removable skirt. Which character will you find?
- Three more surprises await: a beloved character friend and themed accessories for re-creating treasured Princess movie moments.
- Mystery dolls might be Cinderella, Tiana, Ariel, Mulan, Aurora or Belle. Tower design reflects the magical world of each character.
- Fans can connect the world! With three or more towers, remove the middle tower's roof to connect them together.
- Fans can also create their own Disney Princess world by connecting with any Storytime Stackers playset (sold separately)!
A Tale from Pete the Cat
The human returned from an excursion with not one, but three of the plastic towers. The ceremony of opening them was, as predicted, a tedious affair filled with small gasps and the crinkling of wrappers I was not permitted to chew. Out came a doll in blue, one in green, and one in pink. My human, with the focused gravity of a master architect, then proceeded to stack them, one atop the other, creating a teetering, tri-colored monument to poor taste on the living room rug. They arranged the little figures and their even littler chairs and teacups, then stood back to admire their work before leaving the room. I remained on the sofa, a silent gray judge, my tail giving a single, dismissive flick. I descended from my throne with the deliberate grace of a predator approaching an unknown species. The tower was taller than I expected, a fragile skyscraper of molded plastic. I circled it once, my whiskers brushing the base, gathering data. My gaze was drawn to the lowest level, where a tiny, portly mouse figurine—Gus Gus, the human had chirped—was posed next to a miniature broom. He was trapped in his plastic diorama, a prisoner of this flimsy castle. He looked ridiculous. He looked perfect. My mission was no longer mere curiosity; it was a rescue. A theft. An act of profound mercy and entertainment. I did not swipe. Swiping is for amateurs. I am a structural engineer of chaos. I began my analysis at the base, giving it a gentle nudge with my nose. A slight wobble. I tested the mid-section, where the roof of the bottom tower met the floor of the second. There was a seam, a point of connection. A flaw. I sat back on my haunches, my mind calculating the precise application of force required. It wouldn't be a blow, but a vibration. A persuasion. Lifting a single, perfectly manicured paw, I tapped the connecting joint. Not a slap, but a sharp, targeted *pat-pat-pat*. The tower shivered. The tiny teacups on the top floor rattled. I paused, listening. Then, one final, decisive tap. The top tower tilted, hesitated for a moment as if contemplating its fate, and then slid off, cascading into the second tower, which in turn toppled from the first. The result was a glorious clatter across the hardwood floor, a beautiful disaster of scattered princesses and plastic furniture. And there, amidst the ruins, lay Gus Gus, free at last. I scooped him gently into my mouth, the smooth plastic cool against my tongue. The toy itself was a shoddy piece of construction, but as a puzzle box with a prize inside? Exquisite. It was worthy.
