Pete's Expert Summary
My human has presented me with a training device for its offspring, a product from a company audaciously named "LeapFrog"—as if they know the first thing about a truly graceful leap. It appears to be a collection of thin, unsatisfyingly flat paper squares and a rather garish pink plastic wand. The idea is that the small human pokes the paper with the wand, and the wand speaks, teaching the little one to decipher the strange squiggles they find so fascinating. While the noises might provide a brief, curious distraction from my nap, the true value is clear: this is a long-term pacification tool. It will keep the clumsy, tail-pulling creature occupied, thus preserving the tranquility of my domain and the sanctity of my sunbeams. A tool for peace, not a toy for me.
Key Features
- Touching the pages with the LeapReader pen helps children learn to read by sounding out letters and words in interactive stories and activities
- Each page includes three modes to help children learn to read on their own
- Includes 10 early reading books that feature short vowels, sight words and simple words
- Download additional content from the LeapFrog app center including popular audio books, sing-along songs, fun facts and trivia
- LeapReader pen works with all LeapReader books (additional books sold separately)
A Tale from Pete the Cat
The new object arrived in a box that smelled of plastic and disappointment. My human presented it not to me, the rightful king of this domain, but to the small, loud one they call "Chloe." Inside were flimsy paper tablets and a pink stick that looked like a reject from a fairy's toolkit. Chloe began prodding the pages, and a tinny, disembodied voice filled the room. "T-H-E. The." I yawned, unimpressed. It was an auditory annoyance, a new brand of noise pollution in my once-serene living room. I turned my back on the spectacle and began meticulously grooming my pristine white chest fur, signaling my profound disinterest. My cleaning ritual was interrupted by a new sound, a sequence of tones followed by a chipper declaration: "Let's sing a song!" A dreadful, plinky melody began, the voice singing about letters of the alphabet. An insult to the ears. But then, I noticed something. The small human, Chloe, was mesmerized. Her usual chaotic energy was focused, contained. She sat still, her gaze locked on the page, her finger tracing the lines as the magic stick sang its terrible song. The usual threat of a sudden lurch or a grab for my tail was gone. There was… silence. Stillness. A pocket of pure, unadulterated peace. Slowly, I slunk from the armchair and padded silently across the rug, my paws making no sound. I settled myself a safe, but observable, distance away. The stick was now telling a story about a dog. I don't approve of canines in literature, but I approve of their pacifying effect on my small human. I watched, my eyes narrowed, as Chloe spent the better part of an hour utterly engrossed, tapping and listening. She was in a trance, a state of blissful quietude induced by this pink scepter of serenity. It was a shield, an invisible forcefield that protected my afternoon nap from her toddler-based whims. My final verdict came as I curled into a perfect circle on the now-undisturbed velvet couch. This "LeapReader" is not a toy. It is a weapon of mass distraction. It is a magical artifact that casts a powerful "Hold Person" spell on a specific, and usually disruptive, target. Its features are irrelevant to me, its stories mundane, its songs an abomination. But its *effect*? The glorious, golden silence it purchases? That is a luxury beyond price. The pink stick, I have decided, is the most beautiful object I have ever seen. It is a guardian of the nap, a protector of the peace. It is, without a doubt, a masterpiece.
