Pete's Expert Summary
My human has acquired a peculiar contraption from a brand called PlayMonster, which seems to specialize in distracting the smaller, louder human. It appears to be a collection of flat, textured plastic plates, some paper, and waxy sticks for scratching. The goal, as far as I can deduce, is to create images of humans wearing various ridiculous outfits by rubbing the sticks over the paper and plates. The rhythmic *skritch-scratch* sound it produces might be mildly stimulating, akin to a good claw-sharpening session on the arm of the forbidden velvet chair. However, the activity itself seems dreadfully dull and results in flimsy paper artifacts that, while potentially battable, are a poor substitute for a well-made feather wand. The carrying case might make for a decent, if cramped, napping box, provided I can convince her to discard the useless contents first.
Key Features
- FASHION ART KIT FOR KIDS: Looking for cool stuff for girls who love fashion? Kids can mix and match hundreds of stylish looks with this art kit for kids
- ART SUPPLIES FOR KIDS 6-8: Fashion plates make great toys for kids 6+. With lots of patterns to mix and match, kids can customize hundreds of different looks
- TRAVEL ACTIVITIES FOR KIDS: Fashion Plates Classic Styles arts and crafts kit comes in a stylish carrying case making it the perfect travel toy for car rides and kids’ airplane activities
- FINE MOTOR TOYS: It’s not just girly girl stuff; while using this kids toy, children can practice fine motor skills. You can add it to your collection of educational toys
- LITTLE GIRL GIFTS: Kids rubbing plates are some of the best toys for girls, and a great choice when looking for girls birthday gifts age 6-7
- The classic set updated with all new fashions!
- High-quality rubbing plates for endless combinations!
- 30+ piece set with fashion carry along case!
- Brought to you by Kahootz Toys, where we use our skills and passions to bring great kids' products into the world
A Tale from Pete the Cat
Field Report, Stardate... Tuesday. My primary human, whom I shall refer to as The Can Opener, has introduced a new artifact into the territory. She presented the flat, plastic case to the smaller, more chaotic human with an air of triumph, calling it "Fashion Plates." My initial surveillance revealed a collection of engraved plastic rectangles, thin sheets of that delightful crinkly stuff they call "paper," and a box of colorful wax cylinders. My hopes for a new, high-sided sleeping vessel were immediately dashed; the box it came in was far superior for that purpose. I observed from my strategic position atop the bookcase as the small human began the ritual. The ritual was... unexpected. She clicked two of the plastic plates—one for a torso, one for legs—into a blue frame. Then she laid a sheet of paper over it and, with a grim determination I usually reserve for hunting the red dot, began to scrape a black wax stick back and forth. A sound filled the room: a rhythmic, hypnotic *zzzzcratch-zzzzcratch-zzzzcratch*. It was a magnificent noise, a textural symphony that resonated deep in my bones. It spoke of diligent scratching, of creating a mark on the world. I felt a kinship with this strange process, a shared understanding of the importance of leaving one's impression on a surface. Drawn by this siren song of abrasion, I descended from my perch for a closer inspection. An image was appearing on the paper, a ghostly outline of a human female in some sort of ruffled top and trousers so wide they defied physics. What an absurd costume. It offered no insulation, would be a nightmare to groom, and would completely obscure the elegant swish of a tail, had she one. It was an affront to the very principles of functional, streamlined design, principles which my own sleek tuxedo coat exemplifies perfectly. As she finished her "rubbing," she held up the image with pride. I sauntered over, feigning indifference, and elegantly planted my pristine white paw directly in the center of her creation, transferring just a hint of my own superior fur to the paper. She shrieked with what I can only assume was delight at my artistic contribution, though she quickly removed the paper from my reach. My verdict is this: the device is an aesthetic and practical failure. The "fashions" are appalling. However, the sound it makes is a solid 8 out of 10, and the small, discarded paper trimmings provide excellent pounce-fodder. It is unworthy of my full attention, but I will permit its existence for its auditory merits alone.