A photo of Pete the cat

Pete's Toy Box: Little People

Fisher-Price Little People Toddler Learning Toy Caring for Animals Farm Playset with Smart Stages for Pretend Play Kids Ages 1+ Years​ (Amazon Exclusive)

By: Fisher-Price

Pete's Expert Summary

My human has presented me with what appears to be a garish, primary-colored effigy of a rural prison. This "Caring for Animals Farm Playset" from Fisher-Price is, ostensibly, for the Small Human, who seems to delight in noise and chaos. It is a plastic barn that erupts in a cacophony of songs and phrases at the slightest touch, a feature designed to assault the senses of any creature with sophisticated hearing. The set includes a cast of diminutive plastic figures—a farmer and his livestock—all apparently designed to be dropped through chutes and prodded into making simplistic sounds. While the structure itself is an architectural and auditory nightmare, I will concede that the small, bite-sized animal figures might possess some potential for being batted under the sofa. The rest, however, seems a colossal waste of the valuable floor space I require for my mid-morning stretches.

Key Features

  • Interactive electronic farm playset with 45+ songs, sounds, and phrases for toddler-friendly storytelling fun
  • 3 Smart Stages learning levels grow along with your child & teach counting, opposites, animal sounds, and colors with fresh songs, sounds & phrases
  • Multiple play points: Press the barn door button or drop figures through the hayloft for songs, sounds and phrases. Turn on the barn light, “hatch” the chicks, and “pop” the corn in the spinning silo
  • Playset comes with 1 farmer figure, 4 animal figures & 2 food play pieces, all sized for small hands to grasp & move, helping to strengthen fine motor skills
  • Helps foster fine motor skills and encourages imaginative storytelling play for toddlers and preschool kids ages 1 to 5 years old
  • Smilestones: Bringing a smile to milestones This toy helps foster Pretend Play with a familiar setting to stage their stories plus fun prompts and realistic sounds to encourage farm animal play

A Tale from Pete the Cat

It arrived in a box far too large and loud for its contents. The Human called it a "farm," but I saw it for what it truly was: a recruitment and training center. The moment she set it on the rug, the little plastic farmer, with his painted-on smile, stared out at me. I recognized his type immediately. This was a charismatic cult leader, and the barn was his compound. The pig, the cow, the horse, and the chicken were his first initiates, their vacant eyes betraying a complete surrender of will. I approached with caution, my tail giving a low, skeptical twitch. My first test was to assess the perimeter's defenses. I nudged a button on the barn door with my nose. A jarringly cheerful voice burst forth, "The door is open! The door is closed!" It was a password, a hypnotic trigger phrase. I recoiled. This was more insidious than I thought. The Small Human, my slobbering housemate, crawled over and gleefully slammed a tiny cow figure through a hole in the roof, which the box called a "hayloft." The compound responded with a song about counting. Indoctrination, plain and simple. My mission became clear. I was not here to play; I was here to liberate. I saw the two small, round food pieces—a bundle of carrots and a corn cob—as power sources for their brainwashing machine. I would retrieve them. I executed a perfect, silent stalk, circling the compound. I used the farmer's own words against him, batting the door button to create a noisy diversion. As the Small Human was distracted by the insipid melody about opposites, I hooked a single claw into the plastic corn cob and flicked it free. It skittered across the hardwood floor, a satisfying, non-electronic sound. One prisoner, a small, pink pig, had been left outside the gates. I nudged it with my paw. It had a pleasing heft. I batted it once, twice, sending it tumbling end over end until it disappeared under the grand tapestry the humans call a "sofa." Let the farmer count his remaining flock now. The compound itself is an abomination, a temple of bad taste and worse music. But its individual components, once "liberated" from the whole, make for surprisingly decent sport. The revolution has begun, one plastic animal at a time.
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Fisher-Price Little People Toddler Playset Activity Vehicles Set with 10 Toys for Preschool Pretend Play Kids Ages 1+ Years

By: Fisher-Price

Pete's Expert Summary

My human, in their infinite and often misguided wisdom, has presented a box from a brand called "Fisher-Price." The scent alone—sterile, unapologetic plastic—tells me this is not for a creature of my refined palate. It appears to be a fleet of rudimentary, wheeled contraptions accompanied by a crew of small, smiling hominids with no discernible joints. These are clearly intended for the *other* small, loud resident of this house, the one whose grasp is clumsy and whose play involves more drool than tactical precision. The primary appeal for me is the potential for these tiny figures to be "misplaced" from their vehicles, becoming solitary targets for a midnight bat-and-pounce. Otherwise, the clumsy, oversized vehicles are a garish waste of floor space that could be better utilized for my mid-afternoon sunbathing.

Key Features

  • ​Gift set featuring 5 toy push-along vehicles and 5 character figures for toddler-friendly pretend play
  • ​Familiar themes to inspire storytelling, including rescue vehicles like a fire truck and tow truck, a farm tractor, bulldozer construction vehicle, and recycle garbage truck
  • ​Figures and vehicles sized just right for small hands to grasp and move
  • ​Bring these vehicles to any Little People playset for more toddler-friendly storytelling fun (Playsets sold separately and subject to availability.)
  • ​Helps strengthen fine motor skills and encourage imaginative play for toddlers and preschool kids ages 1 to 5 years old

A Tale from Pete the Cat

The invasion began on a Tuesday. The Human, whom I permit to share my living space, tore open a brightly colored box with the reverence usually reserved for a fresh tin of tuna. But the smell was all wrong. It was the scent of a factory, not the ocean. From the cardboard Trojan horse emerged a squadron of colorful abominations: a fire truck, a tractor, and several other chunky vehicles, each with a small, perpetually grinning captive fused to its driver's seat. They were presented not to me, the lord of this manor, but to the Toddler, my sworn nemesis and chief rival for lap space. I watched from my strategic observation post atop the bookshelf as the Toddler deployed the troops. The bulldozer was pushed into a pillow. The recycle truck was driven headfirst into a wall with a dull *thump*. The tiny figures were pried from their seats and subjected to various indignities. It was a chaotic, brutish display, utterly lacking in the stealth and elegance I bring to my own hunts. I flicked an ear in contempt. These were not toys; they were blunt instruments for a creature who had yet to master the concept of cause and effect. My interest waned, and I turned my attention to a more pressing matter: the exact geometric center of a sunbeam. Later that night, long after the cacophony had ceased and the house was draped in shadow, I descended for my patrol. The battlefield lay silent. And there, abandoned near the leg of the sofa, was the tow truck. It was an absurd thing, but something about its hook caught the sliver of moonlight from the window. On a whim, I nudged it with my nose. It rolled a few inches, its plastic wheels rumbling softly on the hardwood. I gave it a firmer shove with my paw. It careened silently across the floor, a ghost vehicle on a midnight mission, before coming to a stop against the baseboard. A strange sort of thrill, a hunter's impulse I hadn't expected, sparked within me. This was not a mouse, nor was it a feather. It was a challenge of physics. How much force was needed to send it on the perfect trajectory? Could I bank it off the kitchen island? Could I, with a precise and powerful strike, send it sliding directly under the one piece of furniture the Human's noisy cleaning machine could never reach? The little smiling man in the driver's seat stared ahead, oblivious. He and his truck were utterly pointless by day, but in the quiet dark? They had just become the centerpiece of my new, silent demolition derby. The Human could keep the rest; this one was mine now.
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Fisher-Price Little People Toddler Toy Forest Friends Carry Case Playset with Animal Figures for Pretend Play Kids Ages 1+ Years

By: Fisher-Price

Pete's Expert Summary

My Human seems to have acquired this Fisher-Price contraption, clearly intended for a less sophisticated audience. It’s a garish plastic tree that serves as a carrying case for eight squat, plastic effigies of woodland creatures. The purported "play" involves sorting these dopey-looking figures into their designated holes in the tree, an activity so tedious it could only appeal to a being with the cognitive function of a garden slug. From my perspective, the tree itself is a waste of space. However, the small figures—the so-called "Little People"—are another matter. Their size and weight suggest they might possess excellent skittering properties on hardwood and could be ideal for my long-term project of hiding things in places the Human cannot reach. A mixed offering, but with some potential for misuse.

Key Features

  • Set of 8 forest-themed animal figures with cute, tree-shaped carry case for take-along pretend play
  • Kids can sort each animal into its corresponding cubby in the tree
  • Tree helps set the scene for storytelling play, then stores all the figures for easy cleanup and travel
  • Figures sized just right for small hands to grasp and move, helping to strengthen fine motor skills
  • Encourages imaginative play and storytelling for toddlers and preschool kids ages 1 to 5 years old

A Tale from Pete the Cat

The thing arrived with the hollow clatter unique to cheap plastic. My Human knelt, presenting the "Forest Friends" playset as if it were a platter of prime sashimi. I gave her a slow, unimpressed blink. Before me sat a cadre of eight brightly colored suspects, their painted-on smiles an affront to my dignified presence. A bear, a deer, a fox... a lineup of woodland simpletons, all reeking of a factory in a distant land. The Human cooed, "Look, Pete! New friends for you!" I flattened my ears. Friends? These were not friends. They were potential assets, and I would vet them accordingly. I began my assessment with a low, circling patrol. My first subject was the wide, dopey-looking bear. I extended a single, perfect claw and gave it a sharp tap. It merely wobbled, its low center of gravity making it a poor candidate for any high-speed chase. Useless. I moved on. The fox, however, was sleeker. A proper flick of the paw sent it spinning across the polished floor, its trajectory a thing of beauty before it vanished under the armchair. Promising. But my eye was drawn to the one with the mask: the raccoon. A fellow creature of the night, a connoisseur of shadows. This one, I knew, had potential. The Human, oblivious to my tactical analysis, began performing the toy's intended, idiotic function. She placed the raccoon figure into its little cubby in the plastic tree. She called it his "home." I called it a holding cell. This would not stand. I waited, a statue of gray fur and patience, until her attention was inevitably drawn to the glowing rectangle in her pocket. That was my moment. A silent leap onto the rug, a swift and precise hook of the paw, and the raccoon was liberated. It shot from its prison, skittering magnificently across the floor and coming to rest in the dark, dusty nether-realm beneath the entertainment center. The mission was a success. The plastic tree remains an eyesore, a monument to misguided intentions. But the raccoon operative is now exactly where it belongs: on a deep-cover assignment from which it will likely never return. While the toy as a whole is an insult to my intelligence, I must concede that its individual components, when properly repurposed for games of stealth and retrieval, are surprisingly adequate. The fox may be liberated tomorrow. The bear can stay in its plastic jail forever.
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Fisher-Price Little People Toddler Playset Play for All School with 2 Figures & 2 Accessories for Preschool Pretend Play Ages 1+ Years

By: Little People

Pete's Expert Summary

My human, in a fit of what I can only assume is a profound misunderstanding of their audience, has presented me with this... plastic edifice. It appears to be a miniature propaganda piece for small, loud humans, celebrating their strange ritual of "school." It is festooned with various levers, spinners, and slides, which might offer a fleeting moment of distraction should I deign to poke them. The primary appeal, however, seems to be for beings who lack the motor skills to open a can of tuna. The little plastic figures look prime for batting under the sofa, but the true glimmer of potential lies in the advertised "soft sensory rug." A designated, miniature sleeping surface? It's a bold, if likely accidental, move to win my favor.

Key Features

  • Celebrate diversity and friendship with this fun-filled school playset packed with fine motor activities
  • Hands-on play: rock both figures on the wheelchair-accessible swing, slide the elevator up & down, spin the weather wheel, toggle the garden, and flip the table scene
  • Imaginative play: “water” the garden with the watering can, dress a figure in the smock for art time, and place the figures on the soft sensory rug for story time
  • Playset comes with 2 character figures and 2 play pieces
  • Helps strengthen fine motor skills, introduce cause & effect, and encourage storytelling for toddler and preschool kids ages 1 year and older

A Tale from Pete the Cat

It arrived with the subtlety of a falling bookcase. The human called it a "school," a word I associate with the tiny human wailing before being carted off in the big yellow beast. This, however, was a shrine. A garish, plastic monolith of offensively bright colors, deposited unceremoniously on *my* living room floor. Two small, smiling figures stood frozen within its confines, one in a wheeled contraption. The Inhabitants. I watched from my perch on the armchair, tail twitching in silent judgment. Another piece of juvenile detritus destined to clutter my domain. My initial inspection was a perfunctory act of territorial surveying. I padded over, sniffing the strange, sterile scent of new plastic. With a delicate, testing paw, I tapped the little figure on the swing. It rocked back and forth, a mindless, repetitive motion. Pathetic. I nudged the elevator; it slid up with a dissatisfying *zizz*. I was the unseen force, the prime mover in this static world, yet I felt no satisfaction. I was about to dismiss the entire affair as a colossal waste of space and turn my attention to a promising sunbeam when my paw brushed against it. It was a small, unassuming patch of fabric on the second level. The "soft sensory rug." My senses, far more refined than any toddler's, registered the texture immediately. It was plush, yielding, and impossibly soft, a tiny island of tactile perfection in an ocean of hard plastic. This was no mere accessory for The Inhabitants. This was an offering. A throne. Suddenly, the entire structure was recontextualized. It wasn't a school; it was my new palace, and this was its grand dais. The sliding elevator was my personal lift, the spinning weather wheel a device to command the elements (or at least, to make a pleasant clicking sound). I ascended to my rightful place, curling up on the miniature rug. It was a perfect fit. From this vantage point, I could oversee my entire kingdom. The little plastic figures were not rivals, but subjects. I was Pete, First of His Name, King of the Little People, and Lord of the Plastic Schoolhouse. The human thinks they bought a toy to teach a child about friendship. The fool. They procured a throne for their rightful ruler. The playset is not merely worthy; it is the new seat of my power.
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Fisher-Price Little People Toddler Toy School Bus Musical Push-Along Vehicle with 2 Figures for Pretend Play Ages 1+ Years

By: Fisher-Price

Pete's Expert Summary

My human seems to believe my intellect is on par with that of a small, sticky child, judging by this latest offering from the Fisher-Price institution. It is a garishly yellow transport vehicle, clearly designed to indoctrinate the young with gratingly cheerful music and flashing lights. Its primary functions appear to be rolling, making a racket when prodded, and housing two small, plastic hostages with unnervingly fixed smiles. While the cacophony it threatens to produce is an affront to any creature of refined taste, the small, removable figures present a glimmer of potential. They are, I must admit, perfectly sized for batting under the sofa, which could provide at least a fleeting moment of satisfaction before I return to my nap.

Key Features

  • Push-along toy school bus with lights, music and sounds for toddler and preschool pretend play
  • Press the Discovery Button or the driver’s seat to activate the lights, sing-along songs, realistic sounds, and phrases
  • Manually fold out the stop sign and open the bus door to load & unload passengers
  • Includes 2 Little People figures sized just right for small hands to grasp & move
  • Helps strengthen fine motor skills and encourages storytelling for toddlers and preschool kids ages 1 to 5 years old

A Tale from Pete the Cat

It arrived not in a storm, but in a cardboard box, which is much the same thing in this household. The Staff called it a "school bus," a vessel I understand is used to transport noisy juveniles. This one, a monolith of Canary Yellow, was placed in the center of my sunbeam, a declaration of war if ever I'd seen one. Inside its transparent prison sat two beings, their faces frozen in expressions of vapid bliss. They were clearly the advance party for some manner of invasion, and this yellow machine was their Trojan Horse. I narrowed my eyes, my tail giving a single, deliberate thump against the rug. The Staff, in their infinite ignorance, decided to "activate" the intruder. A single press of a button unleashed its true, horrifying nature. A manic series of lights pulsed from its single, cyclopean eye on top, and a disembodied voice began to sing a chillingly upbeat tune about the wonders of public transport. It was a siren song, designed to lull the senses and soften the mind for indoctrination. The two plastic figures sat impassively through the sermon, their painted smiles seeming to widen. They were already lost. I, however, am made of sterner stuff. I approached with the silent tread of a predator stalking its prey. The music blared, a desperate attempt to convert me to its cause. I ignored it, focusing on the machine's weaknesses. A light tap with my paw revealed a flimsy, hinged door. I hooked a claw and swung it open, an act of defiance. The singing continued. I then discovered the little red sign that folded out from the side—a pathetic attempt at authority. I batted it back and forth with contempt. It was all so simple, so crudely constructed. My final act was one of liberation. The music finally ceased, leaving a ringing silence. I reached into the hollow cavity of the bus and surgically extracted one of the smiling hostages. It was light, smooth, and perfect. With a single, expert swat, I sent the figure skittering across the hardwood floor and directly under the credenza, lost to the light of day. The bus sat empty, its purpose defeated. The machine itself is a garish failure, a noisy and useless idol. Its passengers, however, make for excellent sport. It may remain, but only as a holding cell for my future prisoners.
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Fisher-Price Little People Toddler Toys Classroom Figures 10-Piece Set for Preschool Pretend Play for Kids Ages 1+ Years

By: Fisher-Price

Pete's Expert Summary

My human, you've presented me with a new flock of miniature bipeds from the Fisher-Price institution, a purveyor of things for the loud, sticky, small version of you. From what I can gather, this is a collection of ten small, plastic effigies meant to represent a "classroom." For me, they represent a perfect set of bowling pins, easily scattered with a well-aimed paw. Their primary appeal is their sheer number and their convenient size for batting under the heaviest furniture, ensuring you have to work to retrieve them. Their lack of movement, sound, or scent, however, suggests a profound laziness in their design. They will require me to provide all the kinetic energy and narrative drama, which, while I am capable, does cut into my rigorous napping schedule.

Key Features

  • 10-piece school-themed Little People figure set for toddler and preschool storytelling play
  • Includes 10 characters styled in a variety of fashions, skin tones and hair styles
  • Figures sized just right for small hands to grasp and move, helping to strengthen fine motor skills
  • Bring these figures to any Little People playset for more toddler-friendly pretend play! (Playsets sold separately and subject to availability.)
  • Encourages imaginative play and storytelling for toddlers and preschool kids ages 1 to 5 years old

A Tale from Pete the Cat

The offering arrived in a cardboard monolith, which you ceremoniously opened on the living room rug. Out they tumbled—a silent, smiling council of ten. They were unnervingly cheerful, their painted-on eyes staring into the middle distance with a kind of plastic, unblinking devotion. You arranged them in a semi-circle, a silent congregation awaiting a sermon I had no intention of delivering. My initial assessment was one of deep suspicion. Who were they? What did they want? Their diversity was a clear tactic to appear non-threatening, but I saw through it. There was one with spectacles, clearly their strategist. Another was seated in a wheeled contraption, a mobile scout. I approached with the practiced nonchalance of a seasoned predator. A low, slow tail-twitch was my only concession to the tension in the air. I circled them, my gray tuxedo immaculate against the beige carpet, sniffing the faint, sterile scent of their creation. They did not flinch. They did not scatter. Their placid smiles were a mask for something, I was certain. I selected the one with the bright green shirt—their apparent leader—and subjected it to The Stare. My eyes narrowed, my pupils shrinking to threatening slits. I blinked slowly, the highest form of feline communication, a gesture of trust that, in this context, was a pure power play. The figure just smiled back, its plastic soul utterly unmoved. This insolence could not stand. The time for observation was over; the time for disruption had begun. With a flick of my paw that was both elegant and devastating, I sent the wheeled scout careening across the hardwood floor, where it came to a halt under the credenza. A perfect shot. I then turned my attention to the bespectacled strategist, tipping it onto its face with a gentle but firm *boop*. The silent council was broken. Yet, the remaining figures stood there, smiling their vacant smiles, oblivious to the chaos I had sown. My verdict? They are fools. Utterly without survival instinct. But their sheer, unyielding cheerfulness in the face of my tyranny is... intriguing. They are not worthy of a hunt, but they are certainly worthy of being periodically scattered as a reminder of the true authority in this household.
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Fisher-Price Little People Toddler Learning Toy Friends Together Play House Set with Smart Stages for Pretend Play Kids Ages 1+ Years​

By: Fisher-Price

Pete's Expert Summary

Honestly, the human has finally lost its mind. This is a miniature plastic domicile, clearly intended for the unrefined palate of a small, sticky human. A "playset," they call it. I call it a noisy, garish intrusion. It's made by Fisher-Price, a brand that seems to believe intelligence is born from flashing lights and repetitive songs about the alphabet, a subject I mastered in my first trimester. While the cacophony of sounds it promises to emit is a direct threat to my napping schedule, I must admit a certain curiosity. It comes with several small, plastic figures. Figures that are, if I am not mistaken, perfectly sized for being batted under the sofa, a noble and time-honored sport. The "working tree swing" also has possibilities, but overall, this seems like a tremendous waste of floor space that could be better utilized by a sunbeam.

Key Features

  • Electronic home playset that folds for storage with 3 best friend figures and 7 additional play pieces
  • 3 Smart Stages learning levels with songs, sounds and phrases about the alphabet, counting, opposites and greetings
  • 6 activation points including light-up radio, light switch, front door, kitchen 'tablet,' refrigerator, oven, and toilet that 'flushes'
  • Lots of play for kids to discover including 4 rooms in the house, outdoor patio with swimming pool and working tree swing
  • Helps foster fine motor skills and encourages imaginative storytelling play for toddlers and preschool kids ages 1 to 5 years old

A Tale from Pete the Cat

The thing arrived in a box large enough to be a respectable fort, but the human, in its infinite foolishness, tore it open to reveal the plastic monstrosity within. It was presented not to me, but to a visiting Small Human, a creature of staggering volume and questionable motor skills. I watched from my perch atop the bookcase as the toddler mashed its sticky fists against the various buttons, eliciting a truly hellish symphony of cheerful greetings and songs about counting. It was an assault on the senses. The primary-colored plastic gleamed under the lights, a monument to poor taste. I closed my eyes and pretended I was somewhere else, a quiet field where the only sounds were the rustling of voles. Later, a blessed silence fell upon the house. The Small Human had been dispatched for its nap, and the primary-colored palace sat abandoned on the rug. My moment had come. I descended from my perch with the silent grace of a predator and approached the structure. It smelled faintly of sugar biscuits and desperation. The three little figures, the "friends," stood frozen in various rooms, their painted-on smiles mocking the very concept of genuine happiness. I nudged the front door with my nose. A chipper voice chirped, "Come on in!" An invitation I had not sought, but would accept on my own terms. My investigation became a tour of conquest. I found that a soft tap on the light switch produced a satisfying *click* and a tiny, pointless light. I discovered the kitchen "tablet," whose blinking screen was an amusing, if simple, distraction. Then I found the throne room. Next to the oven and refrigerator was a tiny, white toilet. With the precision of a surgeon, I pressed the flush lever with one claw. A tinny, digital *whoosh* filled the air. Power surged through me. I was the master of this miniature plumbing, the king of this plastic castle. I nudged one of the smiling figures with my paw, sending it tumbling from the second floor into the empty, blue-painted swimming pool. A lesson. There is a new landlord in this house. My final verdict came at the tree swing. I delicately picked up another figure in my teeth—it had the unpleasant taste of sterile plastic—and placed it on the swing's small seat. A gentle pat sent it rocking. A slightly harder pat sent it flying across the room, where it disappeared under the entertainment center. Perfection. This Fisher-Price house is, in essence, an idiotic and noisy machine. But as a stage for my epic dramas, a kingdom for me to rule with an iron paw, and a source of projectiles to be hunted in the dark? For that, it is sublime. I will permit its existence.
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Fisher-Price Little People Toddler Toys Police Car Push-Along Vehicle & Figure for Pretend Play Preschool Kids Ages 1+ Years

By: Fisher-Price

Pete's Expert Summary

My human, in their infinite and often misguided wisdom, has presented me with a "Police Car" from the Fisher-Price conglomerate. Ostensibly, this is a rudimentary plastic conveyance designed to be crudely shoved across the floor by a tiny, sticky-fingered human. I deduce its purpose is to distract these lesser beings. From my superior vantage point, its appeal is twofold: the potential for a satisfying skitter across the hardwood when swatted with sufficient force, and, more importantly, the small, removable humanoid figure. This 'officer' presents a far more intriguing challenge—a perfect target for capture, a worthy morsel to be batted under the nearest piece of heavy furniture. The car itself is likely a noisy waste of my time, but its passenger shows promise.

Key Features

  • Collection of Little People push-along toy cars, trucks, and other vehicles for toddler-friendly pretend play
  • Includes 1 toy vehicle with 1 character figure (Each vehicle & figure set sold separately and subject to availability.)
  • Vehicles and figures sized just right for small hands to grasp and move around
  • Bring these vehicles to any Little People playset for more toddler-friendly storytelling play (Playsets sold separately and subject to availability.)
  • These toys help strengthen fine motor skills and encourage imaginative play for toddlers and preschool kids ages 1 to 5 years old

A Tale from Pete the Cat

The sunbeam shifted, a signal that my mid-morning nap patrol was entering its third hour. Then, a disturbance. The Human, my primary Staff member, placed a foreign object on the rug. It was a gleaming blue-and-white vessel, an unidentified wheeled object of garish plastic. Inside, a sentinel with a painted-on, insipid grin stood watch. He was a new authority in my kingdom, and I, as its sovereign, could not let this stand. I descended from my velvet throne on the armchair, my paws silent on the floorboards as I began my reconnaissance. My initial approach was cautious, a low-bellied slink. The object smelled of sterile plastic and the vague, uninteresting scent of the factory it escaped. I circled it once, twice. The wheels were chunky, an affront to aerodynamics. The sentinel inside remained placid, his smile unwavering. This was a challenge. A single, exploratory tap from my paw sent the entire vehicle lurching forward a few inches. A minor amusement, but not the thrill I seek. The true weakness, I surmised, was in the design's modularity. The sentinel was not one with his vessel. With a flick of my wrist and a well-aimed hook of the claw, the so-called 'officer' was ejected, tumbling end over end onto the plush terrain of the rug. The empty blue car rocked to a halt, now a hollow, meaningless shell. The real quarry was free. The little figure, now prone and helpless, was a far more dynamic opponent. I batted him once, sending him spinning toward the couch. He was light, fast, and made a delightful little clicking sound as he bounced off the leg of the coffee table. This was a proper hunt. The car was forgotten. It was merely the Trojan Horse that had delivered this delightful little victim into my domain. I pursued the figure with the full intensity of my predatory focus, cornering him beneath a tasseled pillow. A gentle but firm paw pinned him. He was a rookie, fresh out of the plastic academy, and I, Pete, was the only law that mattered in this jurisdiction. His beat was now under the sofa, until I decided his shift was over. The vehicle is a failure, but its passenger is a resounding success.
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Fisher-Price Little People Toddler Toys Farm Animal Friends 8-Piece Figure Set for Pretend Play Ages 1+ Years

By: Fisher-Price

Pete's Expert Summary

My human, in their infinite and often misguided wisdom, has presented a collection of plastic effigies from a brand called Fisher-Price. Apparently, these are "Farm Animal Friends" meant for tiny, sticky-fingered humans. The set includes eight static, unblinking creatures, from a stout cow to a ridiculously long-necked llama. Their primary "feature" seems to be their size, allegedly perfect for "small hands," which I suppose translates to being a tolerable weight for a well-aimed paw-swipe off the edge of the coffee table. While they lack the fundamental requirements of a proper toy—no feathers, no catnip, no enticing rustle—their sheer variety of shapes and their potential for creating strategic floor clutter might offer a brief, fleeting moment of amusement before I return to the truly important business of a sunbeam nap.

Key Features

  • Figure set featuring 8 Little People farm animal friends
  • Includes llama, chicken, cow, goat, horse, pig, sheep and dog figures
  • Figures sized just right for small hands to grasp and move, helping to strengthen fine motor skills
  • Bring these figures to the Little People Caring for Animals Farm playset for more "wild" fun! (Playset sold separately and subject to availability.)
  • Encourages imaginative play and storytelling for toddlers and preschool kids ages 1-5 years

A Tale from Pete the Cat

The box arrived with the sort of crinkling fanfare that usually heralds something promising—a new blanket, perhaps, or a shipment of my preferred salmon pâté. Instead, my human tipped out a silent, brightly colored delegation onto the living room rug. Eight plastic figures, frozen mid-stride. A cow, a pig, a horse, and their lesser barnyard associates. I watched from my perch on the arm of the chair, tail giving a slow, judgmental thump-thump-thump against the upholstery. This was an insult. They didn't move. They didn't squeak. They were a silent, plastic mockery of the vibrant prey I stalk in my dreams. I descended with the weary sigh of a king forced to inspect the peasant's harvest. I circled the assembly, my gray tuxedo immaculate against the garish display. The dog figure was an affront, a pale imitation of the noisy brute next door. The chicken was pathetically small, an easy first victim. But then my eyes fell upon the llama. It stood taller than the others, its painted-on smile a mask of serene arrogance. A challenge. This was not a random assortment of toys. This was a crew, a gang, and the llama was clearly their smug, long-necked leader. My initial plan was simple: a swift swat to send the leader tumbling. But as my paw hovered, a more sophisticated idea bloomed in my brilliant mind. This would not be a brutish attack; it would be a story of my own making. I nudged the horse with my nose, sending it sliding across the hardwood to stand "guard" by the door. The sheep and the goat were positioned as unwitting lookouts near the television stand. I was no longer a cat batting at plastic; I was a director, a shadowy force manipulating the fates of these simpletons. The stage was the rug, the actors were this silent menagerie, and the plot was entirely mine. One by one, I isolated the members of the llama's crew, using a delicate paw to tip them over into the "abyss" of the thicker shag carpet. Finally, only the llama remained, its plastic smile unwavering. I approached slowly, savoring the moment. I gave it a long, hard stare, then delivered a single, precise tap to its base. It fell with a soft, unsatisfying clatter. The drama was over. I surveyed my work—the scattered figures, the toppled leader—and let out a short, clipped "mrrrow" of approval. It was a crude medium, to be sure, but for an artist of my caliber, even these lumps of plastic could be molded into a satisfying narrative. They would be permitted to stay, as props for my next masterpiece.
Image of Fisher-Price Little People Toddler Toys Farm Animal Friends 8-Piece Figure Set for Pretend Play Ages 1+ Years View Details