Pete's Expert Summary
So, my human has presented me with this... box. It’s not a box for sitting, which is its first and most glaring failure. It appears to be a kit for the smaller, louder human to create a book. It contains paper, some offensively pungent marking sticks, and the audacious promise of turning the small one’s crude scribbles into a "professionally printed hardcover." I am skeptical of the entire process, as it seems to involve a great deal of focused effort that is not directed at me. However, the end result—a sturdy, hard-covered object—has potential. A new, elevated platform for napping? A weighty paperweight to be nudged off a high shelf? The potential for a quality surface keeps my judgment in reserve, for now.
Key Features
- IlluStory - Create Your Own Book! is the newest version of the award-winning bookmaking kit for children
- This new version of the beloved book making kit features a new writing guide, 'Just Imagine..A Guide to Writing and Illustrating Your Story'; which includes instructions and useful information that guides your child to write and publish their very own book
- 2017 Mom's Choice Award - Gold Award Recipient
- Everything contained in the IlluStory kit allows a child to write and illustrate their own full-color, 20 page, professionally printed hardcover book
- Our "About the Author" feature gives your child the option to be showcased as the published author on the book's back cover.Your kit includes ready-to-use cover template pages, story and illustration template pages, guide book & instructions, a set of color markers and a postage-paid envelope and order form.Ships & prints to U.S. residents only
A Tale from Pete the Cat
The box was opened on the dining room table, a sacred space usually reserved for my mid-morning sunbaths. This intrusion was noted. The Steward of the Can Opener and her miniature accomplice, the one I call The Scribbler, laid out the contents. Flimsy paper templates and a rainbow of plastic wands that reeked of chemicals. I observed from my perch on the back of the sofa, my tail giving a slow, judgmental thump-thump-thump against the cushions. The Scribbler began to draw, her tongue sticking out in concentration, creating a garish, multi-colored protagonist that looked suspiciously like a potato with legs. I yawned, unimpressed. This was a colossal waste of a perfectly good afternoon. For days, the project consumed them. The floor was littered with rejected drawings, each one a more profound insult to the arts than the last. I would occasionally deign to walk across a sheet, improving the composition with my paw prints, but my critiques went unappreciated. I heard them reading the story aloud. It was some nonsense about a heroic potato who saves a kingdom of broccoli from a grumpy slug. Utterly pedestrian. I could dictate a more compelling epic about my harrowing journey from the sofa to the food bowl, but they never ask. The day came when they packed the messy pages into an envelope and sent them away. A blessed period of peace descended upon the house. The table was mine once more. Then, weeks later, another package arrived. Inside was the book. The Scribbler held it up with a shriek of delight. I stretched, feigning indifference, and sauntered over for an inspection. The cover was glossy and stiff, the binding felt substantial under my probing claw. This was, I had to admit, a quality object. It had a pleasing heft. I leaped onto the table to get a closer look. The Scribbler opened it, and there was the lumpy potato, now immortalized in professional ink. Absurd. But as she flipped to the back, I saw the "About the Author" page. Beneath a wobbly self-portrait was a short biography. I leaned in, my whiskers twitching as The Steward read it aloud. It ended with, "She loves her cat, Pete, who gave her the idea for the grumpy slug." I froze. The grumpy slug? *Me?* I looked from the book to The Scribbler, who was beaming. The sheer audacity. The libel. Yet… it was a form of recognition. I was not just a pet; I was a muse for this—this *literature*. I sat down squarely on the open book, claiming it. The story was an outrage, but the acknowledgment of my influence made the entire endeavor worthy. It was a fine napping spot, after all.