Pete's Expert Summary
My human seems to think this garish plastic contraption is a 'toy.' From my observations, it's a mobile assault vehicle designed for the smallest, loudest variety of human. Its purpose is clear: to transform a relatively harmless, floor-bound creature into an upright, stumbling menace capable of reaching higher shelves and, more importantly, my food bowl. It's festooned with a dizzying array of noisy buttons, obnoxious lights, and spinning doodads. The only redeeming quality might be the detachable 'activity panel.' If left on the floor, I could potentially deign to bat at a spinner or two without expending much energy. Otherwise, this 'Learning Walker' is just a brightly colored harbinger of a future filled with less peace and more pulled tails.
Key Features
- Removable Tray: The activity-packed, detachable panel is perfect for babies who can sit up; it can also re-attach to the walker for on-the-run fun on both carpet and bare floors
- Auditory Training: The activity center for baby boys and girls includes five piano keys that play musical notes and a telephone handset to encourage creativity and role-play fun
- Motor Development: 3 shape sorters, light-up buttons, and colorful spinning rollers are featured on the baby rolling walker to help define motor skills
- Balance Development: The toddler walker activity center helps the development of stability and movement skills as well as fine motor skills and hand-eye coordination
- Adjustable: Two-speed control switch on the walker allows growth along with your little one's changing speeds; the perfect baby walker for boys and girls alike
A Tale from Pete the Cat
The thing arrived in a box that promised "Frustration Free" packaging, a claim I found immediately suspect. Anything that brings this much primary-colored plastic into my serene environment is, by its very nature, frustrating. The human assembled it with an air of misguided triumph, creating a sort of mobile command center for an infant. It was presented to a small visiting human—a drooling, unsteady specimen I've learned to avoid—who seemed more interested in the taste of the wheels than its alleged "learning" capabilities. My initial assessment was bleak. The small human would periodically whack one of the five piano keys, unleashing a discordant series of electronic bleats that shredded the afternoon's napping ambiance. It would grasp the telephone handset, a baffling plastic banana, and babble into it, a grotesque parody of the human's own tedious conversations. I retreated to my velvet perch atop the bookcase, observing this theater of the absurd from a position of clear sartorial and intellectual superiority. The entire contraption was an insult to tasteful design and quiet contemplation. Then, a moment of pure, unintended genius occurred. The small human, in a fit of pique, gave the walker a mighty shove across the hardwood floor. Freed from the creature's clumsy grasp, it sailed silently across the room, its journey unimpeded until it came to a gentle stop against the leg of the coffee table. My ears swiveled forward. I watched as the human retrieved it, placing it back in the center of the room. The wheels, I noted, were remarkably smooth. The device, while hideous, was an excellent glider. An idea began to form, a plan so devious and self-serving it could only have been conceived by a feline mind. The next day, I put my plan into action. The small human was temporarily contained in a padded pen, and the walker stood abandoned. I waited until my human was occupied, then padded over to the machine. With a precise, calculated leap, I landed not on the noisy panel, but on the smooth, flat base between the front wheels, curling up neatly. It was a perfect fit. I feigned sleep, a picture of innocent repose. As predicted, the human eventually released the small one, who made a beeline for the walker. It grabbed the handles and pushed. And just like that, I was in motion. I was no longer a stationary observer; I was the silent, furry passenger on a chauffeur-driven land yacht. The small human pushed me from the living room to the hallway, then toward the kitchen where the good food is kept. The walker itself is a cacophonous travesty, an affront to all that is good and quiet. But as a personal transportation service? It is, I must admit, exceptionally useful. It has earned a temporary stay of execution.
