Pete's Expert Summary
So, my human has acquired a box full of what they claim is "Science Magic." It appears to be a kit designed to distract the smaller, louder humans by letting them mix powders and liquids in little plastic tubes, all under the guise of performing tricks. The entire affair is orchestrated by a brand called "Blue Marble" and endorsed by something called "National Geographic," which I believe is a television channel dedicated to things I might otherwise enjoy hunting. While the potential for spills and messes that I'll have to navigate is high, the kit does come with a "magic wand." This singular item has potential as a high-quality baton for me to chase, assuming I can liberate it from the small human's clumsy grasp. The rest seems like a waste of my perfectly good napping time, unless the "vanishing test tube" trick can be used on the vacuum cleaner.
Key Features
- THE MAGIC IS IN THE SCIENCE - The 100+ science experiments in this kit combine the wonders of science with the excitement of magic! Bend metal with water, create a vanishing test tube, make a coin float & much more! You won't find experiments like these anywhere else.
- PERFORM FOR FRIENDS AND FAMILY - Each experiment is specially designed to be performed as a magic trick! The included magic wand and white gloves let your children dress the part, too. Magic for kids has never been this fun and educational.
- EVERYTHING KIDS NEED - This kit includes all materials needed to conduct 20 stunning science magic tricks, including making snow appear in your hand, creating a square bubble, becoming waterproof, and more! Use physics and chemistry to amaze!
- 85+ BONUS EXPERIMENTS - Because we know your kids will want to conduct even more science experiments after their magic show, we include a bonus experiment guide with 85+ additional experiments that can all be done with common household items.
- AWARD-WINNING PRODUCTS - Blue Marble, winner of the Toy Association's prestigious Toy of the Year Award, proudly develops products that foster education, imagination, and creativity, with a U.S. support team to ensure a stellar experience!
A Tale from Pete the Cat
The box arrived, as they always do, with a triumphant thud on the floor. I, of course, claimed it immediately by rubbing my face on all eight corners. However, my tenure as king of the cardboard castle was short-lived. The small human, The Apprentice, tore it open with a squeal that could curdle cream. Out came vials of mysterious powders, beakers, and a cheap-looking plastic stick they called a "wand." She donned a pair of tiny white gloves, a laughable imitation of my own pristine paws, and began her work. I watched from my throne on the back of the sofa, my tail twitching in mild irritation. Her first trick was to "bend metal with water." She poured some liquid over a small wire and it moved. The larger humans clapped. I yawned. I can bend the laws of physics themselves just by staring at a closed door until a human is compelled to open it. Next, she made a coin "float." Pathetic. I can make a bottle cap skitter, fly, and disappear under the refrigerator with a grace she could only dream of. This wasn't magic; it was a series of poorly executed demonstrations that lacked any real showmanship. I was about to dismiss the entire spectacle and retire for a sunbeam nap when The Apprentice fumbled one of her vials. A small pile of fine white powder dusted the rug. My instincts, honed over generations of superior predators, took over. I hopped down from the sofa and approached the spill with caution. It had no discernible scent. I extended a single, perfect white paw and gave the powder a delicate tap. A bizarre sensation followed. The powder instantly puffed up, transforming into a cold, fluffy mound that clung to my fur. It was like the frozen water that falls from the sky, but without the dreadful wetness. What was this sorcery? It was cool, soft, and utterly fascinating. I poked it again, watching it bloom against my paw pad. I looked up at The Apprentice, who was now scooping the "instant snow" into a cup, oblivious to the true miracle that had occurred on the floor. Her magic was for an audience. It was loud and clumsy. My magic was a private discovery, a silent, tactile interaction with a substance that defied my understanding of the world. I decided then that the kit could stay. Its primary functions were idiotic, but its accidental creations held promise. And that wand, once The Apprentice grew bored of it, would be mine. A true master, after all, knows how to procure the finest tools for his own, far more sophisticated, amusement.