Pete's Expert Summary
My human, in their infinite and often misguided wisdom, has procured a large, garish plastic case from a brand called "Polly Pocket," which sounds less like a toymaker and more like a diagnosis for lint accumulation. It appears to be a miniature world designed to create maximum clutter. It unfolds into a "resort," a concept I understand as a place humans go to be even lazier than I am, which is saying something. For a small, clumsy human, this might be a delight. For me, the primary appeal lies in the "25 plus accessories." That's at least two dozen new, tiny, brightly colored items to bat under the heaviest furniture in the house. The various slides and elevators are mildly intriguing for testing gravitational theories with kibble, but the true value is in the sheer quantity of losable parts.
Key Features
- This Polly Pocket Pollyville Resort Roll Away doubles as a playset and storage unit for Polly compacts.
- This action-packed adventure includes 4 dolls, 1 vehicle, and 25 plus accessories with locations like the beach, boardwalk, and hotel.
- The playset opens to a 3-story resort where kids can take part in endless vacation activities with Polly and friends.
- Have fun bringing dolls to the lobby in the resort elevator. The hotel also features a delicious buffet, the coolest arcade, and a bathtub in the hotel room.
- Dolls can fit into the slide and take a sweet ride to the beach boardwalk from the hotel.
- The beach is full of fun reveals and surprises like: speed bumps that activate the parasailing feature, a ferris wheel for dolls, and a helicopter ride with amazing views.
- The extendable handle makes it easy to take the playset anywhere on-the-go. Ideal for ages 4 years old and up especially those who love adventures. Colors and decorations may vary.
A Tale from Pete the Cat
The thing arrived with all the subtlety of a vacuum cleaner awakening from its slumber. My human placed the offensively pink and blue suitcase on the living room rug and, with a series of loud clicks, unfurled it. My nap was, of course, ruined. I stalked over, tail twitching with irritation, to inspect this new blight upon my domain. It was, as I suspected, a tiny plastic metropolis of poor taste. I saw a ludicrously steep slide, a tiny elevator, and a Ferris wheel that looked structurally unsound even for the minuscule plastic effigies scattered about. I am a cat of standards, and this was an architectural travesty. My inspection began with a thorough sniff. It smelled of disappointment and polyethylene. The human was making nonsensical cooing noises, placing the little figures in various "locations." One was put in the elevator. I watched, unimpressed, as the human manually lifted it. Shoddy workmanship. Another was placed at the top of the slide. A gentle push sent it careening down and flying off the end. A flicker of interest. There was potential here for launching things. I noted the "delicious buffet" was merely molded plastic, a cruel mockery of a real meal, and I gave it a look of profound disdain. My verdict was forming—a resounding "no"—when the human moved one of the figures to the boardwalk area. They rolled the little car over a specific set of bumps on the plastic pier. Suddenly, with a surprising *thwip*, a tiny fabric parasail shot into the air, tethered by a string. My ears, previously flattened in annoyance, perked forward. My eyes widened. It was an involuntary, unpredictable movement. It was prey-like. The little canopy drifted lazily back down, and before I could stop myself, my paw shot out and batted it clean out of the air. The human giggled. I retracted my paw, feigning indifference, and began grooming a perfectly clean patch of my tuxedo chest. The resort was still an eyesore, a monument to wasted resources. The dolls were useless, the buffet an insult. But that parasail... that little pop-up mechanism held a spark of genius. It was a flaw in the otherwise boring landscape, a glitch of kinetic energy I could exploit. I settled back down, not to sleep, but to wait. My gaze was fixed on those speed bumps. The resort was beneath me, but I would permit its existence, solely for the singular, repeatable joy of ambushing that ridiculous, delightful little parasail.
