A photo of Pete the cat

Pete's Toy Box: Foreign Language Game

eeBoo 4 Language Bingo Game/Spanish, French, German, Mandarin Chinese/Ages 3+

By: eeBoo

Pete's Expert Summary

My human has, once again, mistaken our shared living space for a preschool. This latest offense arrived in a flat, colorful box from a brand called "eeBoo," which sounds suspiciously like the sort of noise a ghost would make if it were trying to be patronizing. Inside is a collection of cardboard squares and boards, a "Bingo Game" allegedly designed to make the small, loud humans even louder, but in four different languages. The supposed appeal is "skill-building" and "socialization," which I translate to "organized shouting" and "an opportunity to interrupt my nap." While the large boards might serve as marginally acceptable napping placemats, the true, and only, potential for quality entertainment lies in the 48 small, cardboard playing pieces. They seem lightweight, eminently swattable, and perfectly shaped to disappear under the heaviest furniture. A waste of time for the humans, perhaps, but a potential treasure trove for a cat of my discerning tastes.

Key Features

  • Skills: Listening, communication skills & vocabulary.
  • Age: 5+.
  • Includes 6 game boards, 48 playing pieces and 4 language tokens.
  • Screen-free Fun: For over 25 years, eeBoo has created wholesome, educational games and activities that cultivate conversation, socialization, and skill-building while introducing our world.

A Tale from Pete the Cat

The operation began on a Tuesday. The target, a device codenamed "BINGO," was deployed by The Hand That Feeds onto the living room rug, my primary surveillance territory. It was a chaotic scene: six large, illustrated grids and dozens of smaller squares scattered like propaganda leaflets. My mark, the Small Human, was being indoctrinated by The Hand, who pointed at a picture of a dog and uttered a foreign incantation: "¡Perro!" The Small Human shrieked in delight. I narrowed my eyes from my observation post on the velvet armchair. This was no game. This was a psychological weapon designed to disrupt the peace with confusing, alien commands. I descended from my perch with the practiced silence of a shadow, my white paws making no sound on the oriental rug. The air was thick with the scent of cheap ink and the cloying wholesomeness of "educational fun." I moved in, a gray wraith weaving between the scattered evidence. My target was a small blue square depicting a fish. It was isolated, a straggler separated from its unit. As The Hand attempted to explain the concept of "le poisson," I saw my opening. The Small Human was distracted, trying to fit a piece with a cat on it (a rather unflattering, cartoonish rendering, I might add) into its mouth. Amateurs. My strike was a symphony of precision and grace. A single, fluid extension of my foreleg, a flick of the wrist, and my paw connected with the blue square. It went airborne, skittering across the hardwood with a most satisfying *skrr-tck-tck-tck*. Chaos erupted. "Pete, no!" a voice commanded from above. But it was too late. I was already in pursuit, the thrill of the hunt coursing through me. I chased my prize into the dark, dusty nether-realm beneath the credenza, a sanctuary where only I and the dust bunnies dared to tread. The humans could not reach me here. The fish was mine. In the gloom, I appraised my quarry. It had a pleasingly smooth finish and held up remarkably well to a series of vigorous test-bites. Its true genius, however, was its aerodynamics and its ability to slide into the most inaccessible corners of the home. I emerged, victorious and aloof, leaving the blue fish to its dusty fate. My final verdict: The "game" itself is a cacophony of nonsense. But its 48 individual components? They are a masterclass in tactical acquisition. My mission was clear. One down, forty-seven to go. This house would not know peace until every last piece was "filed away" in my private collection.

Spanish Bananagrams - Multi-Award-Winning Word and Language Game

By: Bananagrams

Pete's Expert Summary

My human, in their infinite and often misguided wisdom, has procured a soft, bright yellow pouch shaped, rather offensively, like a fruit I have no interest in eating. Inside this "banana" is a collection of small, smooth tiles, each defaced with a strange symbol. The purpose, as far as I can discern, is for the larger creatures of this house to spill these little squares onto my floor—my personal sunning and stretching space—and then frantically slide them around, muttering what I can only assume are incantations in some foreign tongue they call "Spanish." The true appeal, if any exists, lies not in their nonsensical "game," but in the individual components. The pouch is a passable kick-toy, and the tiles have a delightful potential for being individually and methodically swatted under the heaviest piece of furniture in the room. The game itself? A complete waste of prime napping real estate.

Key Features

  • FUN FOR EVERYONE: Gather your family and friends and race against each other to build crossword grids. This anagram game that will drive you bananas.
  • ENTERTAINING AND EDUCATIONAL: While this game is easy to play, Bananagrams is also educational. Teach your kids how to spell words in Spanish.
  • GREAT FOR TRAVEL: Bananagrams comes in a fun banana-shaped case. This game doesn’t take much space like other board games and brings tons of fun while travelling.
  • PERFECT FOR LEARNING SPANISH: playing games in the language is an excellent way to improve your language skills.
  • FAST-PACED FAMILY FUN: Bananagrams is fun for all ages 7 years and up. 1-8 players.

A Tale from Pete the Cat

The thing lay abandoned on the Persian rug, a garish yellow crescent offending the otherwise tasteful decor. My human had been gleefully clacking its contents with a friend, making pleased noises before leaving it behind. An unguarded object in my domain is an invitation for inspection. I approached, my white paws silent on the wool. A faint zipping sound, a familiar challenge, presented itself. With a practiced hook of a claw, I unsealed the pouch. A torrent of smooth, ivory-colored squares tumbled out, scattering with a satisfying, domino-like clatter. I had seen such things before, tiny bones of plastic bearing the sigils of the human alphabet. But something here was different. I nudged them with my nose, the scent of plastic and human hands filling my senses. There were the familiar shapes, the 'A's and 'T's that I vaguely associated with the words 'CAT' and 'TREATS'. But what was this? A letter 'N' wearing a jaunty little wave? A double 'L' huddled together as if for warmth against the chill of the hardwood floor? This was no simple game. This was a cipher. My human, the poor, simple-minded fool, was an unwitting courier, smuggling a coded message into my very home. The pieces clicked into place, not on the floor, but in my magnificent brain. The strange, lilting words my human had been practicing—*gato, pescado, siesta*—they corresponded to these alien symbols. This was a communiqué from a foreign power. I began to rearrange the tiles myself, not into words, but into a threat assessment. I pushed the 'G', the 'A', the 'T', the 'O' together. *Gato*. A clear reference to one of my kind. The inclusion of the 'Ñ' and 'LL' confirmed my suspicions: this message was from a Spanish operative. I envisioned him now: a sleek black cat named Javier, one ear notched from a close call in Barcelona, sending coded dispatches about the quality of the local tuna. Let the humans have their frantic, pointless fun. They were merely the delivery system, oblivious to the high-stakes game of international feline espionage unfolding on their living room rug. This banana did not contain a toy; it held a secret. It was my duty, as head of household security, to intercept and interpret this intelligence. I settled in for a long night of cryptology, batting a particularly suspicious-looking 'RR' tile under the sofa for later interrogation. The work was demanding, but for the security of this domicile, it was a burden I was uniquely qualified to bear. This was, without a doubt, the most important "toy" to ever enter my house.

Peaceable Kingdom Spanish Bingo - Language-Learning Games for Kids - Includes a Pronunciation Guide

By: Peaceable Kingdom

Pete's Expert Summary

My human has procured another box of colorful cardboard, apparently a training device for the smaller, louder humans. They call it 'Spanish Bingo,' a ritual where they pull picture-squares from a cloth bag and make strange, repetitive noises at each other. From my superior vantage point, the "game" itself seems a profound waste of time that could be better spent napping in a sunbeam. However, the sheer number of small, plastic, skitter-worthy chips is noteworthy. The drawstring on the bag also shows promise for a dedicated session of batting and chewing. The box, of course, is the main prize, but the loose components may provide a fleeting, if undignified, amusement.

Key Features

  • Spanish Learning for Kids: Start Spanish language-learning early with bingo! Kids practice pronouncing and remembering basic Spanish words as they play a fun game of bingo.
  • Kids engage their memory and language-learning skills as they play. Every round introduces new basic vocabulary, from household objects to food and clothing items. Instructions for several game play options are included to increase the difficulty as kids improve!
  • How to Play: Reach into the bag and pull out a Spanish word token with a picture of the meaning on the other side — if you have a match, you’re on your way to BINGO! Use the pronunciation guide to say it out loud.
  • Peaceable Kingdom products inspire cooperation, kindness and caring with meaningful board games, toys, and activities. Build connections as you practice teamwork through imaginative play!
  • Includes: 6 double-sided playing boards, 50 word tokens, 72 plastic chips, drawstring bag, rules & pronunciation card. For 2-6 players. (For ages 5 and up)

A Tale from Pete the Cat

The floor, my domain, had been commandeered for some bizarre human ritual. My person and the smaller one were crouched over colorful grids, chanting words I had never heard before. "¡La manzana! ¡Los pantalones!" It was all very loud and pointless. From my post on the arm of the chair, I watched them pull little cardboard squares from a crinkly bag. They would stare at the image, make their noise, and then place a little red plastic disc on a matching square. The whole affair was an affront to the dignified silence of a proper afternoon. My initial plan was to ignore them until they produced a treat as an apology. But then, I saw it. A token was pulled from the bag, and on it was the unmistakable image of a fish. My person shouted, "¡Pescado!" and my ears swiveled in a perfect, synchronized motion. This was no mere game. This was a summoning. They were invoking the spirit of fish without offering me, their furry overlord, the first tribute. This could not stand. I launched myself from the chair, landing with a soft thud in the center of their ritual space. Their silly game stopped. They cooed at me, but I was on a mission. I ignored their petting hands and stalked directly to the "Pescado" token, which now lay discarded beside the bag. I gave it a deliberate sniff, then nudged it with my nose, pushing it toward my food bowl's general direction. The message was clear. Their next move was to pull a token with a drawing of a dog. "¡Perro!" the small one shrieked. An insult. A clear and deliberate insult. With a flick of my paw, I sent the offending dog token skittering under the heaviest piece of furniture in the room. Finally, they pulled the one that mattered. A handsome, gray, tuxedo-ed feline stared back from the cardboard. "¡El Gato!" my human declared, placing it on her board. I strode over, placed my white-gloved paw firmly on top of the tile, and began to purr, a low rumble that vibrated through the floorboards. The humans laughed, thinking I was "playing." They did not understand. I wasn't playing their game; they were finally playing mine. I had silenced the dog, claimed the fish, and asserted my rightful place as the victor. This 'Bingo' was a silly human construct, but as a tool for establishing the proper hierarchy of the household, I had to admit, it was surprisingly effective.

Japanese Memory Match-It | Matching Memory Card Game by Lingo | Japanese Language Educational Flash Cards | Fun Vocabulary Builder

By: Lingo

Pete's Expert Summary

My human, in her infinite and often misguided wisdom, has procured a set of flat, square objects from a brand called "Lingo." It appears to be some sort of "game" designed to teach her clumsy tongue a new set of noises—"Japanese," I believe she called it. The premise is pathetically simple: flip over these cardboard tokens to match pictures with foreign scribbles. While the colorful illustrations of things like fish (*sakana*, she chirped) hold a flicker of potential, the true value of these 54 tokens is not in their "educational" purpose, which is a laughable endeavor. No, their true calling is their perfect size and weight for being batted under furniture, creating a delightful, long-term scavenger hunt for my staff and a satisfyingly chaotic landscape on the living room rug. A waste of her time, perhaps, but a promising new medium for my own artistic expression.

Key Features

  • MULTILINGUAL MEMORY GAME - Memory game is designed to help improve their memory skills and familiarize themselves with popular first words in different foreign languages
  • FUN VOCABULARY - With colorful illustrations and easy-to-read text, have fun matching pairs while learning new vocabulary
  • EXCELLENT GIFT - Ideal for sharing with friends and family seeking educational toys. Families have the flexibility to learn and play at their preferred pace, beginning with just five pairs and progressing gradually to master all 27 words
  • AN EXCEPTIONAL EDUCATIONAL TOOL - A fantastic and instructive game to enjoy with friends and family during family fun nights or in the classroom. It accommodates multiple players for an engaging learning experience
  • FEATURES – The game includes 18 pairs of words and 36 tokens

A Tale from Pete the Cat

The box smelled of processed tree pulp and disappointment. I watched from the arm of the velvet chaise as the human arranged the little squares on the floor in a grid of offensively perfect lines. She called them "memory cards," a tool to fill her brain with yet more useless information. She turned one over. It showed a crude drawing of a feline, an orange tabby of no particular distinction. "*Neko*," she said, looking at me expectantly, as if I should be flattered by this two-dimensional caricature. I responded with a slow, deliberate blink that I hoped conveyed the full depth of my apathy. She continued her solitary game for a few minutes, muttering words like "*inu*" and "*ie*," before the shriek of the kettle called her away. This was my moment. I hopped down, my paws making no sound on the oriental rug, and approached the grid. The cards were glossy, thin, and smelled of nothing. I nudged one with my nose. A house. Boring. Another one showed a ball. An insult to my collection of superior, felted-wool spheres. Then, my eyes caught it—a vibrant illustration of a fish. She had called it *sakana*. It did not smell of the sea, a profound design flaw, but the image alone was enough to stir a flicker of my primal instincts. This was no memory game. This was a game of curation and distribution. I selected the *sakana* card first. With a practiced flick of my paw, I sent it skittering across the hardwood, its slick surface allowing for impressive speed and distance. It slid perfectly under the gap beneath the heaviest armchair, a dark abyss from which no light, and certainly no human fingers, could easily return. A masterpiece. Next, I located the sun (*taiyō*). Its warm, yellow face was aesthetically pleasing. I decided it didn't deserve banishment, but rather, re-appropriation. I nudged it away from the others and sat on it. It was a poor substitute for a real sunbeam, but it was the principle of the thing. When the human returned with her steaming mug, she found the grid in disarray. "Pete! Did you see where the fish card went?" she asked, already on her hands and knees, peering into the gloom. I merely twitched an ear, feigning sleep from my new perch atop the tiny, paper sun. Let her search. Let her ponder the mysterious disappearance of her precious learning tool. This "Lingo" game, I concluded, was a resounding success. Not for its intended purpose, of course, but as a sophisticated apparatus for generating domestic chaos and asserting my intellectual dominance. It is worthy. Oh, it is most definitely worthy.

AGO En Francais - French Language Card Game for Beginners! Learn French by Playing a Fun Conversational Card Game!

By: AGO

Pete's Expert Summary

My human has acquired a small box of paper rectangles, which they purport are for learning a new set of human noises they call "French." From my vantage point on the sofa, I can see they are covered in simplistic drawings and strange scribbles. The game apparently involves the humans asking each other nonsensical questions and looking at the pictures, a tedious process that seems to produce much confusion and little in the way of treats. While the high-quality 300gsm paper might offer a satisfying heft for a vigorous batting session and the cards' smooth finish would allow them to slide magnificently across the hardwood floor, the actual "game" itself is a colossal waste of energy that could be better spent admiring me. The true value, as always, lies not in the intended purpose, but in the potential for chaotic disruption.

Key Features

  • A fun Q&A card game for learning and practicing simple French questions, phrases and vocab through conversation. An exciting and effective way to build French language skills!
  • The 54 card deck features 36 simple and useful question cards and 18 'action cards' (to make the learning fun!). These cards make for swift language learning and many game play possibilities!
  • Question cards feature clear illustrations, contextual clues and labelled relevant vocab. Players spend equal time ASKING and ANSWERING the target questions in random order, and learn the content naturally as they play!
  • EDUCATIONAL AND FUN FOR ALL AGES! Play as a fun family game, in the classroom, on vacation, or even use as flash cards!
  • HIGH QUALITY PLAYING CARDS. 300gsm paper. Size approx 2.5 x 3.5" (63x88mm). Instruction booklet included.

A Tale from Pete the Cat

The ceremony began, as it often does, with my human sitting cross-legged on the floor, shaking the small box with a foolish grin. The rustling sound was moderately intriguing, a prelude to either a new bag of kibble or, more often, some fresh disappointment. They fanned the cards out on the rug like a street-corner charlatan. I observed from the arm of the chair, tail twitching in mild irritation. Another attempt to distract from the scheduled evening scritches. My human picked up a card. It depicted a poorly rendered sun. "Quel temps fait-il?" they asked the empty air, then answered their own question, "Il fait beau." This was not a game. This was a cry for help. I decided to intervene. I hopped down, landed with the silent grace befitting my tuxedoed splendor, and placed a single, firm paw on the deck, scattering the cards. I then selected one with my claw—a picture of a fish—and pushed it pointedly toward my human's knee. Their priorities were clearly in disarray, and it fell to me to correct them. They laughed, the typical response of a simple mind confronted with genius. "Oh, Pete, you want the *poisson*?" they cooed, misinterpreting my command as a playful gambit. They then held up a card showing a crude drawing of a dog. "C'est un chien?" they asked me, an outrageous accusation. I responded with the only appropriate action: I turned my back to the card, sat down, and began meticulously cleaning my shoulder, a gesture of supreme disdain universally understood to mean, "You have offended me and my ancestors." The human, finally getting a sliver of the message, sighed and gathered the cards. They had failed the test. The "AGO En Francais" deck, while constructed of a delightfully chewable cardstock, was a flawed communication tool. It was built on the absurd premise that one needed fifty-four cards to ask the important questions in life, when really only one is necessary: a slow, deliberate blink that asks, "Is it not time to worship me with tuna?" This deck is unworthy. Its only redeeming quality is that the scattered cards make the Roomba's job more interesting to watch.

Semper Smart Games VOCABULICIOUS! The Vocabulary, Word and Conversation Game That Makes Mealtime More Meaningful.

By: Semper Smart Games

Pete's Expert Summary

My human has acquired a box of laminated paper squares designed to make their mealtimes even louder. They call it a "game," this VOCABULICIOUS! nonsense. From what I can gather, it's a system for structured babbling, using a restaurant theme to trick the smaller humans into learning new noises. The mention of "Appetizers," "Entrees," and "Desserts" gives a flicker of hope that actual food is involved, but I suspect it's a cruel bait-and-switch, offering only hollow words instead of tuna. The cards themselves, however, seem to possess a certain aerodynamic quality. They are thin, light, and likely produce a most satisfying skittering sound across the hardwood floor. While the "game" is undoubtedly a waste of good eating time, its individual components show promise for a solo session of Bat the Square Under the Sofa.

Key Features

  • Fun restaurant-themed game with vocabulary words and fun conversation prompts engages the whole family in creative sharing about their day, recent experiences, thoughts, insights and much more!
  • Includes over 200 vocabulary word cards for varying skill levels: appetizer word cards (easier), entree word cards (medium difficulty) and dessert word cards (most challenging), as well as 12 restaurant menu cards that include 48 conversation topic choices for players.
  • Pick word cards depending on your desired skill level and see how much fun it is to weave curriculum-inspired vocabulary words into conversations on the daily menu topics!
  • Plays right out of the box with instructions that take less than a minute to understand!

A Tale from Pete the Cat

The dining table, my customary pre-meal observation post, was desecrated. A garish blue box sat squarely in the center, an unwelcome monolith disrupting the evening's proceedings. My human, with the sort of misplaced enthusiasm I’ve come to expect, began laying out little cards like a fortune teller predicting a future of abject boredom. They called this performance "Vocabulicious," a name that sounded like a sneeze and a snack combined. I settled onto the rug below, grooming my pristine white chest, and prepared to be thoroughly unimpressed. The first course of this auditory disaster began. The smaller human drew an "Appetizer" card. The word was "ephemeral." He then attempted to describe his day at the human kitten factory—the "school"—using this new sound. It was a clumsy, painful affair, like watching a dog try to catch a laser dot. My ears twitched in annoyance. This was not fine dining; this was a cacophony. The larger humans applauded this linguistic train wreck, their conversation flowing around topics from a "Menu" card, none of which involved my dietary preferences or the current state of the sunbeam in the living room. My patience, already a finite resource, wore thin. This charade had gone on long enough. They were ignoring the true purpose of the dinner table: to serve as a platform for food that might accidentally fall to the floor. I saw my opening when a particularly tempting "Dessert" card, the most challenging and therefore most prestigious, was laid near the table's edge. It was time for a masterclass in interactive theater. With a fluid leap, I landed silently on the polished wood, my presence a sudden, dramatic twist in their dull narrative. I strode between the water glasses with the careful gait of a seasoned connoisseur inspecting the vintage. I ignored their coos and whispers of "Oh, Pete's here!" I was not "here"; I was making a statement. I reached the "Dessert" card, sniffed it with theatrical disdain, and then, with a single, elegant tap of my paw, sent it sailing off the table. It fluttered down, a perfect, silent arc, landing face-up on the rug. The humans erupted in laughter, but I held my ground, staring at them. The message was clear: your game is over. The only dessert worthy of discussion is the one that comes in a can and smells of the sea. The cards, I decided, were excellent props. The game itself? A culinary failure. But as a tool for asserting my dominance? Worthy. Utterly worthy.

American Sign Language Handshape Game Cards

By: Harris Communications

Pete's Expert Summary

My Steward has presented me with a collection of flat, processed tree squares featuring crude drawings of human paws. Apparently, this is a "game" where the large, clumsy bipeds learn to communicate without their usual cacophony of loud noises. From my perspective, the primary appeal lies not in the "educational" aspect, which is clearly a waste of time that could be spent decanting my food, but in the potential for mayhem. The cards possess sharp corners for testing my teeth, a slick surface perfect for batting under the refrigerator, and they arrive in a cardboard box of a truly exquisite size—ideal for a preliminary nap before the main, more serious nap in a sunbeam. The cards themselves are a bore, but their container shows promise.

Key Features

  • 56 cards
  • Size - 4-1/4 x 5-3/4.
  • Item Weight - 1 lbs.

A Tale from Pete the Cat

The Tall One, in a fit of what she surely considered intellectual enrichment, tore the plastic from the box with a crinkle that momentarily piqued my interest. She then laid the 56 cards out on the living room rug in a meticulous grid, creating an infuriating obstacle course directly between my favorite napping sofa and the kitchen, where the crunchies reside. I watched from under the coffee table, my tail twitching in irritation, as she made a fist, looked at a card, and then looked at me expectantly. As if I, a being of supreme grace, would ever engage in such a brutish gesture. My patience, already a finite resource, wore thin. I decided to make a break for the kitchen, charting a course across the papery minefield. I stepped delicately, my pristine white paws avoiding direct contact with the strange symbols. I placed a foot near a card showing a pointing finger, then another near a card with two fingers raised. The Tall One gasped. "He's telling a story!" she shrieked to the empty room. "He went from 'one' to 'two'! He's counting!" I, of course, was merely plotting the most efficient route to the food bowl. This gave me an idea. I paused, dramatically lifting a paw over a card depicting a flat, open palm. She interpreted this as the sign for "stop" or "wait," and held her breath, mesmerized. I held the pose, savoring the theatricality of it all, before slowly, deliberately, placing my paw down and continuing my journey. The result was immediate: a shower of praise, a flurry of chin scratches, and the magical sound of the treat bag being opened. The cards, as objects of play, are an utter failure. They do not skitter, they do not flutter enticingly, and they taste disappointingly of ink and pulped wood. However, as a stage for my newfound career as a feline oracle, they are an unparalleled success. The Tall One now believes I am communicating the ancient secrets of my people through her silly game. I let her believe it. She sees a prophet; I see a clear and easily exploitable path to more salmon-flavored treats. These cards have earned my approval, not as a toy, but as the perfect tool for human manipulation.

Sight Word Memory Game / Matching Game. Reading and Language Building for Grades Pre-Kindergarten through Second Grade. Early Children's Reading Educational Game. Learn to Read (First Grade)

By: Urban Supply Co

Pete's Expert Summary

My human, in their infinite and often misguided wisdom, has presented me with what appears to be a collection of stiff, flat squares covered in nonsensical scribbles. They call this a "Sight Word Memory Game," a tool apparently designed to cram knowledge into the brain of the smaller, louder human who shares my territory. From my perspective, its "educational" value is irrelevant. I see no feathers, no crinkle, no tantalizing red dot. However, the claim by "Urban Supply Co" that the cards are made of thick, hard-to-bend material does pique my interest; they might slide magnificently across the hardwood floors. But let's be honest, the true prize here is the "small mailer box." The cards are merely the tedious filler one must endure to acquire a brand new, perfectly-sized sleeping vessel.

Key Features

  • EARLY READING AND LEARNING-Your child will learn frequently used sight words by having fun at the same time with this CLASSIC matching card game. Each level contains 20 frequently used sight words. Levels pre-kindergarten through second grade available.
  • EDUCATIONAL AND ENTERTAINING-Engage with your child in a fun way while enhancing his or her reading, language, spelling and concentration skills. Can also use the cards as flash cards to help your child learn the sight words.
  • A GREAT LEARNING RESOURCE FOR HOME OR SCHOOL- Excellent and eduCATional game to play on family fun night or at school. A classroom must have. Can be played with multiple players.
  • Urban Supply Co- Pride ourselves in high quality products. The cards are made of thick material; making it difficult to bend the cards. They are made to last and can be kept neatly in the small mailer box, which MAKEs them the perfect travel games.
  • GREAT GIFT- MAKEs a great gift to share with friends and family looking for learning and eduCATional toys. Various levels available for all ages 3-6+. Kids and families can learn and play at their own pace: Start with 5 words and can work your way to learning all 20 sight words for each level.

A Tale from Pete the Cat

The air in the living room grew thick with suspense. My human, whom I'd taken to calling The Warden, approached my mid-afternoon sunbeam with a suspicious parcel. "Look what we got, Pete!" she chirped, her voice a little too bright. She opened the box, revealing dozens of small, white squares. The insignia read "Urban Supply Co," a name that sounded like it should be stamped on a crate of illicit catnip, not these sterile tiles. This was clearly a message, a code I was meant to decipher. She laid them out, face down, in a grid on the floor, a silent challenge. The game, as they say, was afoot. My initial surveillance suggested a ritual of immense boredom. The Warden and her small, noisy accomplice would take turns flipping two tiles, muttering cryptic phrases like "where" and "from." When the symbols matched, they'd cheer. When they didn't, they'd groan and flip them back. It was a pointless exercise in memory, a skill I have already perfected for tracking the precise location of every sunbeam and the exact time of the evening meal. I yawned, showing a fang in silent disapproval, and began meticulously grooming a single tuft of fur on my otherwise immaculate tuxedo chest. This was beneath me. Then, a break in the case. The small accomplice, in a fit of pique after failing to find a match for "said," swiped a paw—a clumsy, human imitation of my own grace—across the grid. The tiles scattered. One of them, a sturdy little square bearing the word "the," went sailing across the polished wood floor. It didn't flutter; it skated, a tiny hovercraft on a sea of oak. My hunter's instinct, long dormant during the preceding charade, flared to life. I launched myself from my post, a silent gray predator, and pinned the tile with a satisfying *thwack*. It was smooth, weighty, and perfect for batting. I dispatched that tile under the sofa with a practiced flick. The humans, finally understanding the true purpose of their "game," began sliding more for me. "Go get it, Pete!" The Warden laughed. Fools. They thought they were playing with me, but they were merely pawns in my own grander scheme. While they were distracted, my gaze fell upon the empty vessel, the "Urban Supply Co" box. It was my endgame. With a deliberate, casual grace, I sauntered over, gave it an exploratory sniff, and curled myself into its crisp, cardboard confines. The verdict was in: the cards are a decent, if fleeting, diversion for a skilled floor hockey player such as myself. The box, however, is a resounding success—a five-star fortress of solitude. Case closed.

Teacher Created Resources Connectegories: The Card Game Where Words Connect, Categories Collide, and Language Skills Skyrocket! for Ages 7+, 2-6 Players

By: Teacher Created Resources

Pete's Expert Summary

My human has procured a box of stiff, colorful rectangles, which she and other large, clumsy beings arrange on the dining table with far too much concentration. Apparently, the goal is to stare at pictures of things—a "dog," a "ball" (an inferior, non-crinkly type)—and link them together with abstract concepts, a process that seems to produce an inordinate amount of self-congratulatory noise. They call this "skyrocketing language skills." I call it an organized mess. While the small cards might be suitable for batting under the sofa and the box itself is a promising napping vessel, the "game" itself appears to be a colossal waste of energy that could be better spent staring intently at a dust bunny.

Key Features

  • Make Connections in All Directions: Players young and old can use word skills and strategy to connect everyday words in as many ways as possible.
  • What’s Inside the Box: Each box contains 123 Game Cards and a Category Card Stand. There are 99 Word Cards that include the name of a common object or animal and a photograph of that object or animal. There are also three color-coded levels of Category Cards (24 cards in all). An easy-to-follow instruction booklet tells you all you need to know about how to set up the game, how to play, and how to win. The booklet also includes a QR code to view a video for extra guidance on gameplay and scoring.
  • How to Play: Players activate a new Category Card or use one already on the board. They then connect Word Cards that fit into those categories and try to maximize points by making connections in more than one direction. Build and extend the gameboard, using as many cards as possible to earn the most points. Watch a web of words grow as the connections take hold! The first player to 50 points is the winner.
  • How It Can Help: As younger players gain practice in quickly categorizing how words are built (with consonants, vowels, and syllables), they will better learn how words are spelled and pronounced. As more and more connections are made, mental math becomes a helpful tool players can use to tally up point totals in search of the most strategic play possible.
  • Fun for Everyone: The everyday words are ones that even young learners will know. The basic gameplay is simple to learn and understand. However, even adults will be engaged by the strategies that can be used to maximize scores.
  • At Home, In the Classroom, and On the Go: This game was designed by teachers for teachers, parents, and kids. It’s perfect for small-group work in the classroom, and it makes for an entertaining and educational addition to Family Game Nights at home or on vacation.
  • Ideal for 2-6 players, ages 7+.

A Tale from Pete the Cat

The affair began, as these things so often do, with the crisp snap of a cardboard lid being opened. I observed from my strategic perch atop the bookcase, my tail giving a slow, judgmental twitch. My human and her chosen companion spread the glossy cards across the table, their primate minds alight with the thrill of simple patterns. They spoke in code, a series of pronouncements: "Things you find in a kitchen." "Starts with the letter 'B'." It was all terribly pedestrian. I could see the connections they couldn't, the true, esoteric web that bound the universe together. They were fumbling, placing a card with a 'Bed' next to one with a 'Banana'. Fools. They saw shared letters; I saw a profound statement on the futility of seeking comfort in a world of perishable goods. A yawn escaped me, a silent critique of their lack of vision. My human was losing, her face scrunched in a way that usually preceded the opening of a can of inferior, pate-style food. I could not allow this. Her victory was paramount to my continued comfort. With the silent grace of a shadow, I descended from my perch and landed weightlessly on the table. A gentle "No, Pete," was uttered, but it lacked conviction. My time was now. I ignored their clumsy, alphabetical "logic" and began my work. With a delicate push of my paw, I nudged the 'Fish' card away from 'Fork' and placed it next to the 'Box' card. The perfect connection: a vessel for transport, a place of safety, the very essence of a delivery from the Chewy gods. I then sat firmly upon the 'Dog' card, neutralizing its chaotic energy and preventing my human from making a disastrous play. They misinterpreted my strategic genius as a simple desire for attention, eventually lifting me from the table and placing me on the floor. But the damage—or rather, the *correction*—was done. My human, inspired by my subtle rearrangement (or so I choose to believe), suddenly saw a new path to victory. She won, and my dinner that evening was the good stuff with the gravy. This "Connectegories" is, therefore, a flawed tool. It relies on a primitive, surface-level understanding of the world. However, as an instrument through which a superior being can guide their clumsy staff toward a mutually beneficial outcome, I must concede it has its merits. It is worthy, but only when properly supervised.