Pete's Expert Summary
So, my human—in a fit of what I can only describe as a catastrophic misunderstanding of architectural taste—has erected this plastic monolith in the living room. It's a three-story, aggressively pink structure for her tiny, unblinking human effigies. I've assessed the schematics. It boasts a dizzying array of miniature rooms and a ludicrous spiral slide that appears to be a direct violation of several laws of physics. However, I must note the "pet features" with a mix of scorn and intrigue. A "pet elevator" is a concept I can get behind, though its inclusion alongside a dedicated "puppy play area" and a pre-packaged plastic canine is a grave insult. This "DreamHouse" is either a monumental waste of prime sunbeam real estate or, just possibly, a multi-tiered tactical observation post with a surplus of small objects to knock over. The jury is still out.
Key Features
- Welcome to the Barbie Dreamhouse, where 360-degree play inspires endless fun! This updated version of the iconic doll house features an open design, premium features and 75+ storytelling pieces.
- Barbie can host the pool party of her dreams with her home’s spectacular three-story spiral slide. Watch as Barbie doll and her friends swirl down the slide into the pool! Dolls not included.
- This doll house doubles as a veritable pet palace, and even includes a puppy figure! Furry friends will have a blast with the pet elevator, pet slide and pool, pet bed, doggie door and pet house.
- Right from the start, kids can spend hours exploring ten different play areas: a kitchen, living room, dining room, bedroom, bathroom, closet, bonus room, balcony, pool and the biggest slide yet.
- The pool party can turn into a slumber party with space to sleep four dolls! The living room console transforms into the ultimate sleepover spot with a starry backdrop and an extra bed for two.
- Dreamy features include integrated lights and sounds in the kitchen and bathroom, fun furniture -- including an extra pull-out bed in the bedroom -- and a top-floor balcony with a palm tree.
- Bring detail to playtime with 75+ storytelling pieces, a working elevator that is wheelchair-accessible, an adorable swing, fabulous closet and more.
- When kids ages 3 years old and up “step inside” the Barbie Dreamhouse playset, they’ll never run out of stories to tell!
A Tale from Pete the Cat
The construction phase was an auditory nightmare. Grunts from the Large Human, frustrating clicks of plastic, and the occasional triumphant cry from the Small Human as another garish wall snapped into place. I watched from the safety of the armchair, my tail twitching in profound disapproval. The finished product was an assault on the senses—a towering pink palace of manufactured joy. It reeked of a factory. I wouldn't have given it a second glance, except for the glint of something moving. My human, demonstrating a rare flicker of insight, had placed the structure near the window. As the sun shifted, a sliver of light caught the "pet elevator" as she tested its function. It was a small, transparent box, ascending slowly on a track. A conveyance. For *pets*. While the notion of being lumped in with that smiling, plastic canine they included was offensive, the engineering of a personal lift was… compelling. Once the house fell silent, my mission was clear. I leaped from the chair and began my reconnaissance. The "doggie door" was too small, a pathetic gesture. The pet slide was an undignified chute. But the elevator beckoned. Of course, its manual crank was beyond my manipulative abilities—a critical design oversight. Annoyed, I resorted to a more traditional method of ascent: I leaped effortlessly onto the second-floor balcony, scattering a tiny dining set across the floor with a satisfying clatter. From there, it was a simple hop to the top floor. And there, I found it. The true purpose of this entire edifice. It wasn't the integrated kitchen lights or the ridiculous pool. It was the top-floor balcony. It offered an unparalleled, strategic vantage point over the entire living room, the kitchen entryway, and the top of the Large Human's balding head. I settled in, a gray sphinx surveying my kingdom from my new, pastel-hued acropolis. When the Small Human returned, she found me not as a guest, but as the new monarch. She squealed in delight—a predictable reaction—and tried to place a miniature chaise lounge next to me. I ignored it. She then had the audacity to place the plastic puppy figure at the edge of *my* balcony. I watched her retreat, then, with the surgical precision of a seasoned predator, I extended a single paw and nudged the offending idol. It tumbled end over end, striking the spiral slide and skittering down into the empty pool below. The DreamHouse was worthy, I decided. Not as a house, but as a throne.
