A photo of Pete the cat

Pete's Toy Box: VTech

VTech Sit-to-Stand Learning Walker (Frustration Free Packaging), Blue

By: VTech

Pete's Expert Summary

So, my human, in their infinite and often baffling wisdom, has presented a VTech device clearly intended for a small, wobbly human who has yet to master the art of bipedal locomotion. It’s a plastic monstrosity on wheels, designed to be pushed by a creature with none of my inherent grace. However, I will concede a single point of interest: the front panel, a cacophony of buttons, spinners, and lights, is detachable. While the larger contraption is an insult to my four-legged stability, this removable "console" shows a glimmer of potential. It could serve as a decent floor-level distraction, provided the electronic squawking it emits doesn't disrupt my mid-afternoon sunbeam nap more than it entertains. A risky proposition.

Key Features

  • Removable Tray: The activity-packed, detachable panel is perfect for babies who can sit up; it can also re-attach to the walker for on-the-run fun on both carpet and bare floors
  • Auditory Training: The activity center for baby boys and girls includes five piano keys that play musical notes and a telephone handset to encourage creativity and role-play fun
  • Motor Development: 3 shape sorters, light-up buttons, and colorful spinning rollers are featured on the baby rolling walker to help define motor skills
  • Balance Development: The toddler walker activity center helps the development of stability and movement skills as well as fine motor skills and hand-eye coordination
  • Adjustable: Two-speed control switch on the walker allows growth along with your little one's changing speeds; the perfect baby walker for boys and girls alike

A Tale from Pete the Cat

The operation began at 0800 hours. The Handler—the one they call "Mom"—unveiled the target, codenamed "Walker." It was a wheeled infiltration unit, painted in garish shades of blue and orange, clearly designed for overt, clumsy insertion, not the subtle arts of espionage in which I specialize. My mission, as I saw it, was to assess the threat, probe its defenses, and determine if it could be compromised for my own purposes. I am Agent Tuxedo, and this was my field. I began with a low, silent perimeter sweep, my gray fur a shadow against the hardwood floor. The device stood taller than me, a towering plastic behemoth. It possessed a crude communication device, a red telephone I immediately marked as a potential listening post for the enemy (the dog). Below it, a five-key array that emitted jarring tones—a rudimentary sonic weapon, no doubt. But my keen eyes, honed by years of tracking dust bunnies under the sofa, noticed its true weakness: a series of spinning rollers and light-up buttons at paw-level. These were the access ports. My initial probe was met with a flash of light and a cascade of noise that was, frankly, offensive to my refined sensibilities. A lesser agent would have retreated. I, however, am a professional. I noted the Handler detaching the main console from the wheeled chassis, effectively disarming its mobility. The core of the device now lay flat on my territory. Phase two could commence. With surgical precision, I extended a single, perfect claw and depressed the square, green button. A triumphant jingle. I batted a roller. A satisfying whir. I was in. I was hacking their mainframe. The shape sorters proved to be a minor puzzle, useless openings into the plastic void, but the piano keys were another matter. I discovered that a rapid, rhythmic pounce across them created a frantic melody that caused the Handler to appear with treats. A direct command interface. The device, once a potential threat, was now my personal broadcast system, my training simulator, my communication hub. The mission was a resounding success. The Walker has been neutralized and repurposed. I will continue to monitor its activity, mostly from a horizontal position while it plays a little song for me.
Image of VTech Sit-to-Stand Learning Walker (Frustration Free Packaging), Blue View Details

VTech Pop-a-Balls Push and Pop Bulldozer, Yellow

By: VTech

Pete's Expert Summary

My human, in a fit of what can only be described as profound species confusion, has presented me with a garish yellow contraption from a brand called "VTech." It appears to be a wheeled noise-box designed for small, clumsy humans. Its alleged "play" involves being pushed around, whereupon it launches small, colorful spheres from a smokestack into a forward-mounted basin. While the cacophony of "educational" sounds it emits about numbers and colors is an assault on my delicate ears and a waste of perfectly good napping ambiance, I must concede a certain primal interest in the popping mechanism. The sudden, unpredictable ejection of a small, chasable orb *could* provide a fleeting moment of amusement, but the effort required to tolerate the rest of its intrusive "features" hardly seems worth it.

Key Features

  • Push the handle to roll the bulldozer across the floor and watch it pop balls out of the chimney into the bucket
  • Press the buttons to learn colors, numbers, phrases and music
  • Roll the bulldozer and trigger motion sensors to listen to fun tunes and songs on the move stimulating attention and coordination
  • Grab the chunky handle to encourage motor skill development
  • Assorted Color Balls. New batteries recommended for regular use

A Tale from Pete the Cat

The Foreman—that’s my title on this job site—brought in new heavy machinery this morning. From my supervisory position atop the velvet armchair, I watched him unbox a vibrant yellow monstrosity that reeked of factory plastic and misplaced optimism. It was a "bulldozer," he called it. I called it an auditory menace and an eyesore. It was clearly not up to code. My job site, the living room, is a place of quiet dignity, ordered by sunbeams and the precise placement of napping cushions. This thing threatened the entire operation. The Foreman gave it a shove. The machine roared to life, not with the satisfying rumble of a proper engine, but with a cheerful, synthesized tune that made my ears flatten. Then, the true horror began. With a startling *thump-pop*, a bright orange sphere was violently ejected from its chimney, landing haphazardly in the attached bucket. Another shove. *Thump-pop*. A blue one. It was chaos. An unregulated, unpredictable spilling of materials all over my meticulously arranged territory. This was not progress; this was a mess waiting to happen. The Foreman laughed, apparently pleased with this gross display of inefficiency. He eventually abandoned the machine near the leg of the coffee table and left the room, presumably for a coffee break. This was my chance to conduct a formal inspection and, if necessary, decommission the faulty equipment. I leaped down, my paws silent on the rug, and circled the plastic beast. I nudged it with my nose. A motion sensor triggered a new, jaunty song. Insolent. I batted at one of the buttons on its side, and a robotic voice chirped, "Red!" I was not amused. This wasn't a piece of equipment; it was a babbling fool. I was about to dismiss it entirely, a failed project destined for the scrap heap of the closet, when I noticed one of the colored spheres had rolled free. It sat there, a perfect, gleaming little globe of potential energy. I gave it a tentative pat. It rolled beautifully, silently, across the hardwood. I gave chase, a flash of gray and white tuxedo, my true purpose awakened. I cornered it beneath the credenza. When I returned, the bulldozer sat silent, its bucket still holding two more spheres. The machine itself is a lost cause—loud, inefficient, and prone to random musical outbursts. But its payload… its payload requires rigorous quality control and distribution. The project is approved, pending my constant, direct oversight of all ejected materials. The bulldozer is a fool, but its work provides a necessary, if trivial, task for a supervisor of my caliber.
Image of VTech Pop-a-Balls Push and Pop Bulldozer, Yellow View Details

VTech Smart Shots Sports Center (Frustration Free Packaging), Yellow, Standard

By: VTech

Pete's Expert Summary

My human, in their infinite and often misguided wisdom, has procured a plastic monument to developmental overstimulation. It's from a brand called VTech, a name I associate with the kind of electronic shrieking that curdles my cream. This particular contraption, a gaudy yellow and orange affair, purports to be a "Smart Shots Sports Center." It aims to teach a small, uncoordinated human the primitive arts of putting a sphere through a hoop or into a net. It features a blinking scoreboard and a cacophony of encouraging noises, which I can only assume are designed to shatter the serene silence required for a proper nap. The only potential saving grace in this entire loud endeavor is the inclusion of small, perfectly-sized balls, which might, if liberated from the main structure, prove to be worthy of a brief, tactical bat across the hardwood floor.

Key Features

  • Two sports in one! Shoot a basket or score a goal on this combination activity center
  • Animated LED scoreboard counts baskets and plays encouraging sounds and phrases
  • Turning gears help develop fine motor curiosity; buttons introduce shapes, numbers and sounds
  • Set up and start playing right away with the included balls perfectly sized for little hands and feet
  • Intended for ages 12-36 months; requires 3 AA batteries; batteries included for demo purposes only; new batteries recommended for regular use

A Tale from Pete the Cat

The operation had to be conducted under the cover of early morning light, before the tiny human target was awake. My primary human had assembled the "Sports Center" the night before, a process I observed from atop the bookcase, my tail twitching in silent judgment. It was a fortress of auditory assault, a garish plastic keep designed to hold its treasures captive. And what treasures they were: two perfectly spherical objects, one orange, one brown, nestled innocently in their designated holsters. My mission: asset extraction. I slunk from my perch, paws silent on the rug. The fortress loomed. My initial probe was a gentle nudge of a large purple button. A jarringly cheerful voice yelled "Circle!" and a series of lights flashed. A primitive alarm system. I backed away, annoyed but undeterred. A more subtle approach was needed. I noted the mechanical gears on the side. They weren't electronic. A purely physical lock. I hooked a single, perfect claw into a cog and pulled. It turned with a satisfying, non-electronic *click*. I had bypassed the first layer of defense. The primary assets were now within reach. The "soccer" ball was resting in the lower net. A simple extraction. I slipped my paw through the netting, hooking the ball and rolling it free. It skittered away, a silent victory. But the second, the "basketball," was perched higher up, a prize displayed for all to see. This required more finesse. Leaping onto the back of the sofa provided a superior angle of attack. From there, it was a simple matter of a calculated swipe. The ball popped from its cradle, bounced off the heinous orange rim, and landed with a soft thud on the carpet. The scoreboard lit up, playing a triumphant fanfare. It thought it had won. It had no idea it had just heralded its own defeat. With both assets secured, I ignored the plastic husk of the fortress. Its lights could flash and its voice could chatter all it wanted; it was now an empty vault, a monument to a successful heist. I nudged the orange sphere with my nose and batted it under the credenza, my personal secure holding facility. The other would soon join it. The VTech contraption was, as a whole, an insult to good taste and quiet living. Its components, however, once liberated from their noisy prison, were of the highest quality. A successful mission, indeed. Now, for a celebratory nap.
Image of VTech Smart Shots Sports Center (Frustration Free Packaging), Yellow, Standard View Details

VTech Little Apps Light-Up Tablet

By: VTech

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.
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VTech Turn and Learn Driver, Yellow

By: VTech

Pete's Expert Summary

My human has presented me with what appears to be a miniature, and far more garish, version of the dashboard from their rumbling metal beast. This "Turn and Learn Driver" from the notorious VTech corporation is a symphony of plastic distractions. It has a wheel that steers nothing, a lever that shifts imaginary gears, and a collection of buttons that, I'm told, will unleash over 60 songs and sounds upon my sensitive ears. While the tiny mirror offers a brief, distorted glimpse of my own perfection, the primary function of this contraption seems to be to occupy the attention of a less-discerning mind. It may succeed in distracting a tiny human, but for a connoisseur of fine napping such as myself, it is an ostentatious waste of floor space.

Key Features

  • Little hands eager to explore can turn the steering wheel and press colorful buttons to discover animals, vehicles and sounds with over 60 songs and phrases
  • Slide between Animal, Driving and Music modes to keep little drivers entertained through sounds and melodies that encourage hands-on play
  • Honk the horn to introduce road safety with red, yellow, and green lights; perfect for teaching simple concepts like opposites and directions
  • Enhance imaginative role-play by using the signal lever, checking the mirror, and shifting gears while pretending to drive
  • Intended for ages 6-36 months; requires 2 AA batteries; batteries included for demo purposes only; new batteries recommended for regular use

A Tale from Pete the Cat

It appeared on the living room rug one Tuesday, a garish yellow monument to poor taste. The human called it a "driver," a title I found personally insulting, as I am clearly the one who drives the narrative in this household. I watched from my perch on the velvet armchair as they demonstrated its features to an empty room, pressing buttons that sang of opposites and honking a horn that sounded like a distressed digital duck. Then, they left it there. A challenge. I descended with the deliberate grace of a cloud of smoke, circling the plastic device. Its silence was more unnerving than the promised cacophony. A dog, molded into the plastic, smiled at me with vacant, painted-on eyes. An insult to canines everywhere, and by extension, to me. I extended a single, well-manicured claw and hooked the gear shift, pulling it down. A grating *click-clack-vroom* noise erupted, a pathetic parody of the real engine I hear daily. I was not impressed. I batted the steering wheel. It spun freely, connected to absolutely nothing. This wasn't a control panel; it was an exercise in futility. My investigation continued. I pressed a large green button. "Let's sing the animal song!" a cheerful voice chirped, followed by a tune so simplistic it made my whiskers ache. I looked into the tiny mirror affixed to the side. In its warped surface, I saw a sliver of my own magnificent gray tuxedo, a flash of my wise green eye. And in that reflection, I saw the truth. This wasn't a toy. It was a prophecy. This 'driver' was a training module for the small, babbling human who would inevitably be my rival. They were teaching it the fundamentals: make noise, demand attention, and pretend to be in charge. The flashing lights, the songs about traffic safety, the little key you could turn—it was all a simulation for usurping my throne. This was not a gift; it was the first volley in a cold war for control of the sunbeams, the lap space, and the premium canned tuna. I looked back at the smiling plastic dog, my nemesis, and narrowed my eyes. The game, as they say, was afoot.
Image of VTech Turn and Learn Driver, Yellow View Details

VTech Write and Learn Creative Center, White

By: VTech

Pete's Expert Summary

My human, in their infinite and often baffling wisdom, has procured a "VTech Write and Learn Creative Center." It's a stark white plastic rectangle that emits gratingly cheerful noises and flashing lights, apparently to teach the small, clumsy human how to scrawl. The entire contraption seems designed to be an electronic pacifier, a stand-in for actual parenting. From my vantage point on the plush arm of the sofa, I can see its only redeeming qualities might be the dangling pen-thing, which looks suspiciously like a captured lizard's tail, and the potential for a satisfying crash when I inevitably nudge it off the table. Otherwise, it's a blatant infringement upon the household's optimal nap-time acoustics.

Key Features

  • Learning toy magnetic drawing board provides a fun way to get a head start on learning how to write with writing and drawing activities
  • Pre-K learning toy has animated Demonstrations that allow children to follow along and learn proper stroke order for uppercase and lowercase letters
  • Doodler allows toddlers to customize the creative center with your child's name to teach them how to learn to write their name step-by-step
  • Stencil toy teaches children how to draw by progressing from simple lines and shapes to 26 different objects; little artists explore creativity by drawing pictures
  • Includes 2 AA batteries for demo use only (new batteries for regular use) and a stylus for drawing; great toddler travel toy is intended for ages 3 to 6 years

A Tale from Pete the Cat

It arrived on a Tuesday, a day typically reserved for long naps in the western-facing sunbeam and contemplating the injustice of a half-empty food bowl. They called it a "learning toy," placing the glowing slab before the small human, who stared at it with the same wide-eyed vacancy he usually reserves for a dust bunny. A disembodied voice began to emanate from the plastic shell, instructing the child on the creation of glowing runes that appeared on its dark screen. I watched from the shadows of the dining room table, my gray fur making me one with the twilight under the chairs, and I became convinced this was no mere toy. It was an oracle. For days, I observed the ritual. The small human would grasp the tethered wand—the stylus—and trace the ethereal light, and the oracle would speak its approval in a monotone voice. "You made a C!" it would chirp. A "C"? Clearly, this was a coded message, a prophecy I was not yet privy to. What great event did "C" portend? Catnip? Catastrophe? The arrival of the canned chicken delivery? I had to consult the oracle myself, to ask it the questions that truly mattered. One night, when the house was draped in silence and moonlight, I leaped onto the desk where the white altar rested. I nudged the power button with my nose, and it blinked to life, awaiting a petitioner. I ignored the animated stick figures; they were distractions for the simple-minded. I grabbed the tethered wand in my teeth and attempted to draw the sacred symbol of my people: a perfect circle, representing the Cycle of Nap, Eat, and Demand Attention. The screen registered only a jagged, meaningless scrawl. I tried again, tapping the screen with my paw to ask it the location of the lost fuzzy mouse that had vanished under the refrigerator. The oracle responded by cheerfully drawing the rune for "G." I sat back on my haunches, my pristine white chest puffed out in frustration. The oracle was powerful, of this I was certain, but it was also maddeningly obtuse, speaking only in a simplistic code meant for undeveloped minds. It would not reveal the secrets of the cosmos to me. However, I discovered that dragging my claws across the magnetic screen produced a wonderfully resonant *zzzzrrrkk* sound, and the tethered wand, when chewed upon, had a delightfully springy resistance. The VTech oracle may have failed as a spiritual guide, but it had inadvertently succeeded as a passable dental toy and a first-rate nail file. It is, therefore, worthy, but deeply misunderstood.
Image of VTech Write and Learn Creative Center, White View Details

LeapFrog 100 Animals Book, Green

By: LeapFrog

Pete's Expert Summary

My human, in a display of what I can only assume is a catastrophic misunderstanding of species, has presented me with a plastic slab clearly intended for a clumsy, drooling human kitten. It is called the "100 Animals Book," a garish green contraption that purports to "teach" through a series of flashing lights and offensive electronic squawks. It has pages, but they are thick and unforgiving, not the satisfyingly shreddable paper I prefer. While the promise of animal sounds could, in theory, pique my predatory instincts, the high-pitched, tinny quality I’ve overheard suggests it will be more of an insult to my finely tuned ears than a stimulating call to the hunt. Frankly, it looks like a tremendous waste of energy that could be better spent supervising the sunbeam's slow journey across the living room rug.

Key Features

  • Six double-sided, interactive pages feature animals from 12 categories such as the forest, the ocean and the shore
  • Explore three play modes that teach about animal names, animal sounds and fun facts
  • This fully bilingual book lets kids learn about animals and sing songs in English and Spanish
  • Fun facts about animals provide an early introduction to science concepts
  • Intended for ages 18+ months; requires 2 AA batteries; batteries included for demo purposes only; new batteries recommended for regular use

A Tale from Pete the Cat

The object was placed on the floor with a gentle thud and a hideously cheerful, "Look what I got for you, Pete!" I observed it from my throne atop the sofa's armrest, tail giving a single, dismissive flick. It was an affront of primary colors. The Staff—my primary human—poked it, and the thing erupted in a synthesized jingle that was a crime against music. I closed my eyes, feigning a deep slumber, hoping the monstrosity would be forgotten. But then, a new sound pierced my feigned peace. A robotic voice chirped, "Duck!" followed by a "Quack! Quack!" so profoundly artificial it sounded like a dying modem. My ear twitched. This was not the sound of prey. This was a mockery of prey. An insult to the entire anatidae family, whom I enjoy watching from the window with great murderous intent. What kind of creature made such a noise? My scientific curiosity, a faculty I rarely employ for anything less than locating the weak point in a bag of treats, was piqued. I descended from the sofa with the deliberate grace of a predator investigating a strange new phenomenon. I circled the plastic book, sniffing its sterile edges. It smelled of nothing, a void where the rich scent of fur, feather, or fear should be. The Staff, mistaking my intellectual inquiry for interest, tapped a picture of a striped animal. "¡Tigre!" the box declared, followed by a roar that sounded less like a distant cousin and more like a vacuum cleaner choking on a dust bunny. The sheer audacity of it. The gall. I lifted a paw, claws carefully sheathed, and pressed down on a picture of a pig. "Oink! Oink!" it squealed. I was not playing. I was conducting a systematic interrogation. I poked the frog. I prodded the sheep. Each sound was a new, fascinating level of auditory failure. My final verdict came as I sat, staring at the book, my tail now twitching with amusement, not annoyance. As a toy, it is a pathetic failure. It will never replace a crumpled ball of paper or the frantic dance of a laser dot. But as an artifact of human strangeness? As a bizarre, interactive sculpture that produces an endless symphony of terrible noises? It is a masterpiece of absurdity. I will not hunt it, but I will, from time to time, demand The Staff activate it. It is important to be reminded of how very odd the world outside my perfect, sunbeam-filled life can be.
Image of LeapFrog 100 Animals Book, Green View Details

VTech KidiZoom Smartwatch DX4, Blue

By: VTech

Pete's Expert Summary

My human seems to have mistaken me for one of the smaller, louder, and significantly less sophisticated bipeds this device is intended for. This "VTech KidiZoom Smartwatch" is, in essence, a bulky, glowing shackle designed to distract a juvenile human. It boasts a screen for them to smudge, cameras for them to take blurry photos of their own nostrils, and a "music player" that will no doubt emit sounds rivaling the distress call of a dying vacuum cleaner. From my perspective, its potential value lies not in its intended, noisy functions, but in its physical properties. The "premium metal body" might be pleasantly cool to rub my face against, and the included micro-USB cable presents a tantalizing "tail" that could provide several minutes of chewing and batting entertainment before the Staff confiscates it. It is, at best, a high-tech piece of floor clutter with a decent string attached.

Key Features

  • This super-cool smartwatch has two cameras, a large screen, high resolution, a premium metal body, a music player and more
  • Get out and play with this splash-proof watch, featuring exciting activities, challenges and reaction games designed to get you moving
  • Explore your creativity with the dual cameras, adding effects to photos and videos or making music with the composer app
  • Includes 50 built-in clock faces, plus more to download to practice telling time, or shake the watch to hear the time out loud
  • Intended for ages 4+ years; rechargeable lithium-ion battery; charge device using included micro-USB cable only and avoid third-party adapters

A Tale from Pete the Cat

The object was presented to me with an absurd amount of ceremony, held aloft by the Staff as if it were a freshly caught tuna. I gave it a cursory sniff. It smelled of plastic and disappointment. A gaudy blue rectangle strapped to a rubbery band. I flicked my ear in dismissal and turned to meticulously groom a patch of fur on my shoulder, a clear signal that my interest was nonexistent. The Staff, undeterred, strapped it to the wrist of the smaller, more chaotic human—the Progeny—and left them to their own devices. Later, from my observation post atop the bookcase, I watched. The Progeny jabbed a sticky finger at the glowing screen, and a cacophony of tinny beeps erupted. Then, a strange ritual began. The Progeny would run in a circle, then shake the watch violently. A synthesized voice would chirp, "Great job!" This was no mere toy. My feline intellect, honed by years of complex gravitational experiments involving items on shelves, began to connect the dots. This was clearly a training device. A pavlovian remote control for the lesser beings in the house. The movements, the noises, the verbal rewards... it was a system. And the dual cameras? Obviously, they were optical scanners, logging data on the subject's compliance for some unseen, higher authority. My opportunity came when the Progeny, bored with its conditioning, discarded the device on the rug and wandered off. I descended from my perch with the silent grace of a shadow. This was my chance to seize control. I bypassed the baffling screen interface; my paws are instruments of elegant destruction, not clumsy poking. I focused on the core function I had observed: the shake-activated command. I nudged the watch with my nose, then batted it, sending it skittering across the hardwood floor. "It is five-oh-three P.M.," the device announced calmly. A failed command. I was trying to activate the "dispense treats" function, not request a temporal update. I batted it again, harder this time, attempting to input the "open the door to the sunbeam room" protocol. "Let's play Monster Catcher!" it squealed. Utterly useless. After several more attempts to hack its primitive system yielded only inane games and time announcements, I came to a disappointing conclusion. This was not the master controller for the household I had theorized it to be. It was a fool's bauble, a digital pacifier for the easily amused. Dejected, I lay my head down, my chin resting on the cool metal casing of the watch. It was... surprisingly pleasant. The rubber strap had a satisfying texture against my teeth. My verdict was in: as a tool for commanding my domestic empire, it was an abject failure. But as a chin-rest and occasional chew toy? Marginally acceptable. I would permit its continued existence, for now.
Image of VTech KidiZoom Smartwatch DX4, Blue View Details

VTech Chomp &Count Dino, Green

By: VTech

Pete's Expert Summary

My human seems to think this garish green contraption is a suitable companion for the Small Human. It's a plastic beast from the VTech assembly line, designed to make an infernal racket whenever the Small One shoves colored tokens into its gaping mouth. It purports to teach things like "counting" and "shapes," concepts far beneath a creature of my refined intellect. While the educational value is utterly lost on me, the dangling pull-string presents a fleeting possibility for a well-aimed swat. The little plastic food pieces might also be suitable for batting into an inaccessible abyss, but the incessant electronic chatter will surely disrupt the precise 18-hour nap cycle required to maintain my magnificent tuxedo coat.

Key Features

  • Dinosaur toy recognizes the eight brightly colored food pieces as you feed him; provides fun responses as he eats each piece
  • Baby learning toy dinosaur introduces colors, food, shapes and counting; play in either counting or meal mode
  • Early learning center with 130+ songs, melodies, sounds and phrases; kids can answer Dino's questions with the correct food pieces
  • 5 shape buttons teach shapes and numbers or rotate the spinning disc to play sing-along songs; pull toy interacts as it is pulled or pushed along
  • Baby toy comes with volume control and auto shut-off and is for toddlers 1 to 3 years old; 2 AA batteries are included for demo, use new batteries for regular use

A Tale from Pete the Cat

It arrived in a box of thunderous cardboard, a creature of unsettlingly vibrant green plastic. The Small Human, my primary source of dropped food and unintentional petting, shrieked with a glee I reserve only for the sound of a freshly opened can of tuna. They called it a "Dino." I called it an affront. It sat there, glassy-eyed and smiling a vacant, painted smile, until the Small Human tugged its leash—a simple string—and it rolled forward, emitting a cheerful, electronic melody that grated on my very soul. This was not a predator. This was noise pollution on wheels. Then, the ritual began. The Small Human picked up a small, red plastic disc. The Dino, in a digitized voice that oozed false enthusiasm, bellowed, "I'm hungry! Feed me!" The Small Human obliged, and upon the token passing its plastic gullet, the Dino sang a song about the color red. I watched from my perch on the armchair, my tail twitching in profound irritation. A creature that announced its hunger and then sang a jingle upon being fed was no creature at all; it was a pathetic performer, a jester in the court of this tiny, tyrannical human. My contempt, however, was soon complicated by curiosity. The Dino then asked, "Can you find the yellow star?" The Small Human fumbled, trying to cram a blue square into its mouth. The Dino made a polite "bloop" sound of rejection. This continued until the correct yellow star was inserted. A thought, cold and sharp as a winter morning, pierced my consciousness. This wasn't a game. This was an interrogation. The Dino was an inquisitor, testing the loyalty and intelligence of its subjects. It knew things. What was the significance of the yellow star? Was it a warning about the sunbeam it knew I coveted? Was the blue square a reference to the water dish I'd fastidiously avoided all day? I spent the rest of the afternoon in silent observation. This wasn't a toy. It was a gatekeeper, a bizarre warden of shapes and colors. The pull-string was no leash; it was a chain binding this oracle to our mortal realm. Its songs were not jingles; they were coded messages, prophecies utterly wasted on the giggling simpleton it served. I would not deign to touch it. Such a being was not to be trifled with. I would simply watch, and wait for it to reveal a secret truly worth knowing, like the hidden location of the emergency kibble. Only then would I acknowledge its power.
Image of VTech Chomp &Count Dino, Green View Details