Pete's Expert Summary
My human, in their infinite and often misguided wisdom, has presented a bucket of plastic bits. Allegedly, these gray and blue segments are meant to be assembled into a path for some sort of noisy, wheeled contraption, which is mercifully sold separately. From my perspective, this is primarily a collection of 34 lightweight, skittering objects perfect for batting under the sofa, one by one, until the human makes that exasperated sigh I so enjoy. The potential for large, cumbersome structures in the middle of my sunning spots is high, which is a definite drawback. However, the 2-in-1 bucket-and-lid-as-a-bridge concept is intriguing; a raised platform is, by its very nature, a throne. This "Thomas & Friends" set might be a waste of my napping time, or it could provide the raw materials for a new form of architectural torment. The jury is still out.
Key Features
- Kids can build out their Thomas & Friends toy train railway with this 34-piece track expansion set
- 3 suggested layouts + endless possibilities: Includes straights, curves and ascending track pieces compatible with other Thomas & Friends train sets (Engines & train sets sold separately and subject to availability.)
- 2-in-1 bucket: Lid and bucket can be used as train crossings in kids’ track layouts then used as a storage container for all track pieces
- Track pieces, accessories and play pieces are compatible with any Thomas & Friends train set, except wood (Train sets sold separately and subject to availability.)
- Encourages imaginative play and storytelling for preschool kids ages 3 years and up
A Tale from Pete the Cat
The initial presentation was, as usual, undignified. A loud, plastic bucket was unceremoniously dumped onto the living room rug, my rug, spilling its contents with a clatter that was deeply offensive to the quiet afternoon. I watched from the arm of the chair, tail giving a slow, metronomic thump of disapproval as the human began clicking the pieces together. A line here, a curve there. An entire, pointless roadway was being constructed in what was clearly prime stalking territory. I was preparing to register my official complaint via a prolonged and mournful yowl when I noticed the final touch. The human took the bucket lid, a solid, dark gray piece with raised edges, and placed it squarely in the middle of the track as a crossing. My disdain evaporated, replaced by a flash of strategic brilliance. It wasn't a crossing. It was a checkpoint. A tollbooth. A place of power. I descended from my perch with the deliberate grace of a monarch surveying his new acquisition. I padded over, sniffed the plastic—unimpressive, but serviceable—and then hopped onto the lid, settling my soft, gray bulk directly across the path. I tucked my paws under my white chest, assuming a perfect loaf position. I was no longer merely a cat; I was the Guardian of the Pass, the Toll-Taker of the Plastic Way. The human, oblivious, retrieved a small, blue engine from another box and placed it on the track. With a push, it began to roll silently toward my station. It approached, its cheerful, painted-on face a mockery of my stern authority. I did not move. I did not even deign to twitch an ear. The engine bumped gently against my fluffy flank and stopped. The human nudged it again. I responded with a single, slow blink, the ultimate expression of feline power. *You shall not pass.* A standoff ensued. The human poked my side. I remained, an immovable, furry monument to obstinance. Finally, a sigh of understanding. A hand retreated, only to return with one of my favorite crunchy treats, placing it before me as an offering. I inspected it, nibbled it delicately, and then, satisfied with the tariff, rose and stretched before sauntering away, allowing the little engine to complete its journey. The tracks themselves are trivial, the individual pieces a momentary diversion. But this structure, this stage for negotiation and tribute? It has proven its worth. This is not a toy; it is a throne, and I shall govern from it wisely.
