Pete's Expert Summary
My human presented me with this… thing. It’s a flat, foldable square of cardboard from a company called Hasbro, known primarily for providing sturdy, nap-worthy boxes. This particular offering is an assault of saccharine colors depicting a winding path and various human females in large dresses. It comes with several small, plastic totems and a stack of colored cards. The entire purpose seems to be for small, loud humans to move the totems along the path. I suppose the lack of required reading is a key feature for its target audience. While the game itself seems a tedious waste of energy, the small plastic princess figures have a certain chewable, skitter-across-the-floor appeal, and the board itself provides a new, albeit gaudy, surface upon which to interrupt things.
Key Features
- DISNEY PRINCESS VERSION OF CANDY LAND GAME: Remember playing the Candy Land board game as a kid. Introduce a new generation to this favorite preschool game with the Candy Land Disney Princess game
- RACE TO THE CASTLE: Players encounter beloved Disney characters as they guide their princess mover around the rainbow path in a race to the enchanted castle. Whoever reaches it first wins
- 3 FAVORITE DISNEY PRINCESSES: In this fun kids game, little ones can play as Cinderella, Rapunzel, or Ariel
- DISNEY PRINCESS-THEMED GAMEBOARD: Colorful gameboard features illustrations of Aladdin, Snow White, The Little Mermaid, The Princess and the Frog, and other beloved Disney movies
- NO READING REQUIRED TO PLAY: Candy Land Disney Princess board game doesn't require reading, so it's a great game for children who haven't learned to read yet
- PRESCHOOL BOARD GAMES MAKE GREAT KIDS GIFTS FOR GIRLS AND BOYS: Childrens games make one of the most enjoyable holiday gifts or birthday gifts for kids ages 3 and up
A Tale from Pete the Cat
The box arrived, and I gave it the customary inspection. Good seams, solid construction. A prime napping location. My human, however, seemed more interested in its contents. She unfolded a board so luridly colored it threatened to curdle the very cream I’d had for breakfast. It was a cacophony of pinks, purples, and something called a "rainbow path." Then came the idols: three little plastic princesses, their painted-on smiles vacant and foolish. The humans—one large, one small—began their strange ritual, drawing cards and hopping the little figures from square to square. It was agonizingly slow. In a display of profound boredom and asserting my dominance over this new territory, I gracefully leaped onto the table and settled my magnificent gray-and-white form directly across the center of their "world." My nap was promptly disturbed by a gasp. The small human was about to take her turn, but my tail, with a lazy flick of its own accord, had twitched. It connected with the blue princess, Ariel, sending her sliding neatly onto a distant yellow space. At that exact moment, the large human drew a card. It was yellow. A hush fell over the room. "Pete chose for you!" the large one whispered in reverence. I opened one eye. An opportunity. I was no longer merely a cat; I was the Oracle of the Rainbow Path. The rest of the game proceeded not by the random chance of cards, but by my divine whim. Before each turn, two pairs of eyes would fix upon me, waiting for a sign. A deliberate, slow blink? Move to the nearest purple square. An ear twitch? A clear indication to brave the Gumdrop Mountains. When the Rapunzel piece displeased me with its smug, golden-haired countenance, I stretched a hind leg, "accidentally" sending it tumbling back to the start. They interpreted it as a sign of her "hubris." I was lavished with praise and, more importantly, slivers of roast beef for my inscrutable wisdom. Finally, tiring of the charade, I decided to end it. As the Cinderella piece neared the gaudy castle, I sat up, yawned, and with a single, expert push of my paw, sent the totem skittering directly into the castle's printed doorway. The humans erupted in cheers for the "winner." They were fools, of course. They thought they were playing a game, but they were merely worshiping at my altar. The board itself is a flimsy, tasteless affair, but as a platform for demonstrating my intellectual and spiritual superiority? It serves its purpose. It may remain.
