Pete's Expert Summary
My human, in her infinite and often misplaced wisdom, has procured a plastic rectangle clearly designed for the small, clumsy human that sometimes visits. This "VTech" contraption is an assault on the senses, a garish slab that purports to teach things like numbers and letters through a series of loud noises and flashing lights. It features a cartoon lion whose friendly demeanor is a grave insult to the dignity of the entire feline kingdom. While the cacophony of "learning" is an obvious waste of my time, I will concede that the glowing, color-changing LED screen might hold a sliver of hypnotic potential, should the device ever fall silent long enough for me to properly investigate its luminescence without getting a headache.
Key Features
- Add early math skills with number, order and counting games; explore days of the week and daily activities
- Enhance language skills with four letter games that teach letters, words and spelling
- Meet the friendly lion and answer his questions about animal sounds and more
- Play music and sounds with piano keys and letter buttons; change the LED screen from red to purple, blue or pink, and watch the tablet glow
- Intended for ages 2–5 years; requires 2 AA batteries; batteries included for demo purposes only; new batteries recommended for regular use
A Tale from Pete the Cat
The thing arrived in a noisy crinkle of plastic and cardboard, a sacrifice laid at the feet of the Small Human. From my observation post atop the bookshelf, I watched with disdain as she mashed its face with her sticky fingers. A relentlessly cheerful voice blared out, celebrating the alphabet as if it were a fresh tin of tuna. "MEET THE FRIENDLY LION!" it squawked. I narrowed my eyes. That lion was no friend of mine. It was a two-dimensional mockery, a disgrace to all proud predators. The entire spectacle was beneath me, and I turned my head, presenting the scene with my elegantly furred back. Hours later, silence descended. The Small Human had been bundled away for her nap, leaving a trail of destruction and one abandoned plastic tablet in her wake. It lay face-up on the rug, dark and quiet. A worthy adversary, perhaps, now that its obnoxious voice was silenced. I glided down from my perch, my paws making no sound on the hardwood floor. I circled the object, my white-tipped tail held low like a saber. It smelled of plastic and faintly of juice. I gave it a tentative poke with a single, extended claw. Nothing. Pathetic. Just as I was about to dismiss it as inert junk, my paw brushed against a different button on the side. The screen flickered to life, not with a letter or a number, but with a soft, ambient glow. It shifted slowly, from a deep, calming blue to a mysterious, enchanting purple, then to a soft pink that reminded me of the inside of a seashell. There were no voices, no songs, just a silent, pulsing aurora of color. I stared, mesmerized. The world outside the glowing rectangle faded away. This was its true purpose, a secret it kept hidden from the fumbling child. I laid down, tucking my paws under my pristine white bib, my chin resting just inches from the screen. I had conquered the beast, not by fighting its noise, but by discovering its silent, luminous soul. The alphabet and the foolish lion were merely a distraction, a garish costume for its real identity: a mood lamp of the highest caliber, designed for the quiet contemplation of a superior being. I had no intention of sharing this discovery. It was my secret now. The toy was not for the Small Human. It was for me.
