Pete's Expert Summary
My human has presented me with yet another potential threat to my auditory serenity: a plush effigy of a startlingly cheerful human female. Apparently, this "Ms. Rachel" doll is designed to spew songs and phrases at the small, clumsy human, ostensibly to "encourage" it. The GUND construction suggests a certain softness that might, under duress, serve as an adequate headrest. However, its primary function seems to be noise-making. The promise of 16+ phrases and a song about "Icky Sticky Sticky Bubble Gum" fills me with a profound sense of dread. The only saving grace is a "Quiet/Loud" switch, a feature I will be monitoring with the intensity of a hawk watching a field mouse. It's likely a waste of my time, unless it can be permanently muted.
Key Features
- OFFICIAL MS. RACHEL TOYS: Interactive touch-activated Ms. Rachel doll that plays 16+ signature phrases & 4 songs from the hit Ms. Rachel show
- SPEAK & SING WITH MS. RACHEL: Sing along to 4 songs, like "Icky Sticky Sticky Sticky Bubble Gum" & encourage your child to repeat signature Ms. Rachel phrases such as "I'm so proud of you" & "Can you say...?"
- QUIET/LOUD SWITCH: Includes a switch for sensory sensitivities, a learning card with play ideas & skill building tips. True-to-show details and baby-safe construction by GUND Baby. (Batteries Included)
- EXPERT-CREATED LEARNING TOYS: Crafted by Ms. Rachel and early learning specialists, these baby toys and toddler toys support crucial early milestones, aiding development from infancy through toddler years
- Easter Gifts for Kids: From easter basket stuffers to everyday play, Ms. Rachel kids toys include tummy time mats, rattles, baby teething toys, plushies, interactive Ms Rachel dolls, blocks, puzzles & more
- Includes: 1 Interactive Doll
- Covered by the Spin Master Care Commitment. See below for full details
A Tale from Pete the Cat
The fabric golem arrived on a Tuesday, a day usually reserved for extended sunbeam sessions and judging the sparrows from the windowsill. My human called it "Ms. Rachel" and placed it in the small one's play-pen, a zone I generally consider a disaster area of questionable stickiness. From my throne on the velvet armchair, I watched it. Its smile was too wide, its eyes too bright. It was an unnatural splash of color and forced cheer in my perfectly curated, gray-and-white world. For hours, it sat silent, a dormant volcano of saccharine sentiment. Later, when the house fell into the deep quiet of the small one's nap, my curiosity finally outweighed my contempt. I slunk from my perch, my paws making no sound on the hardwood floor. I circled the doll at a safe distance, sniffing the air. It smelled of factory plastic and cardboard, a sterile scent devoid of any honest, living history. I crept closer, extending a single, cautious paw. I wasn't playing; I was interrogating. I pressed its soft torso. A voice, clear and jarringly upbeat, erupted from its chest: "I'm so proud of you!" I recoiled, my ears flattened. Proud of what? My impeccable stealth? My discerning taste? The sheer audacity. I decided a more rigorous examination was in order. This was no mere plush. It was a puzzle box of sound. I nudged its hand. A song began, a horrifying tune about "Icky Sticky Sticky Sticky Bubble Gum." The lyrics were an assault on logic and decency. Yet, I found myself intrigued by the mechanism. A press here, a phrase. A squeeze there, a song. I was no longer a cat investigating a toy; I was a scientist mapping the neural pathways of a very simple, very loud organism. The small human might be the intended audience, but I was the one conducting the symphony of inanity. My human entered the room to find me sitting before the doll, one paw delicately poised over its chest. "Oh, Pete! Do you like Ms. Rachel?" they cooed, completely misinterpreting the situation. I gave them a slow blink, a gesture they tragically mistake for affection. They didn't understand. I hadn't found a friend. I had discovered a new instrument. An instrument I could use to summon my staff with an annoying song when my dinner was late, or to express my "pride" just before I knocked a pen off the desk. This doll wasn't worthy of being my prey, but it had just become a valuable, if dissonant, tool in my domestic arsenal. It could stay.
