First, the bad. And the long-winded. And, quite possibly, the incessantly boring:
I'm one of those weird people who have a constant musical sound-track running through their mind. Marching beats, snatches of popular song, classical music, ad jingles, nursery songs, rock, stuff I make up, whatever. This sound-track is very derivative, and acts much like a musical equivalent of silly putty. You know, the stuff you press onto newsprint and peel back to reveal a miraculous mirror image of whatever was on the page? Imagine, if you will, that any music I hear is the newsprint and that my stupid brain is the silly putty, faithfully parroting back whatever music I most recently heard or thought about over-and-over-and-over again. The worst part of all this, at least as far as my wife is concerned, is that occasionally the music leaks out in the form of humming, whistling or, heaven help me, singing.

This makes toys like the Bee-Bop Buildin' Twirlin' Whirlin' Garden (referred to as the PsychoGarden for the rest of this review) a double danger in my simple life. The funky little psuedo-ragtime tune that the PsychoGarden spews whenever activated by my daughter's fumbling was amusing the first two or three times we heard it. But now, many hundreds of repetitions (millions, if you count the repetitions in my head) later, the tune is a painful burden upon my soul. I now constantly fight the urge to skat the stupid tune, or hum it, or whistle it, or thump its rhythm on the nearest convenient surface with my fingertips. It isn't a nightmare for me, though. It's my wife who suffers the most from my compulsion to harmonize with the PsychoGarden. But soon, soon my friends, soon....we shall carefully disassemble the PsychoGarden and steal its magic voicebox. Yes, we will disconnect and bypass the speaker...then and only then will the PsychoGarden be a welcome guest in our home.

Now for the good stuff, or the delightful stuff, or at the very least, the more relevant stuff:
When I saw the PsychoGarden's box, I figured the little rotating disks would simply spin the tiny towers of Primo look-alike pieces which we would carefully erect upon the hubs. And, when first activated, that is exactly what happened. Peaceful, spinning little towers. *yawn* But then a wonderful thing happened; approximately 30 seconds into my Sammy's first minute as curator of the PsychoGarden she tipped a tower over and....WHEEEE!!!! The pieces fell on the spinning disks with a loud clatter and went on a wild ride throughout the grounds of the plastic garden. They seemed to chase one another; they looped from one spinner to the next making figure eights, "s" curves, and more. Sammy loved grabbing at the different shaped pieces as they clickety-clacked past her and, remarkably, scooped one or two up in her little fists--decent dexterity for a six-month old.
Of course, that piece went straight into her drooly, little, gaping maw. But that's to be expected with a six month old little girl. Did I mention the pieces are Primo look-alikes? Well, they are. And like their Lego Primo counterparts, the pieces have some variety to them. They have different colors, and some have funny faces on them. The "face" peices are wacky and confused looking--just like Sammy--and some are endowed with cloth ears, or with built-in rattles. A talented bunch of plastic bits indeed. I haven't tried it yet, but I bet you could use some Lego Primo's with the PsychoGarden for even more variety and fun. Anyhoo, the noise and chaos of the pieces as they describe their clickety-clackety orbits 'round the spinners of the PsychoGarden, along with the rhythmic flashing of the colored lights, all add up to a fun toy, albeit one that is destined to be misused as the child gets old enough to plot such misuse.

Now for the middling stuff, or the other stuff, or the rest of the toy in any case.
Along with the spinners, flashers, and the soon-to-be-silenced music is a pad with a low bumper which is intended to be used as a play mat for the baby to sit upon. The bumper is well-neigh useless, as the odd errant piece tends to fly off to the side, not towards the baby where the bumpers might stop them. And the pad is pretty useless as well, since it is not padded in any way, is very thin and has no pockets, interesting designs, quilting, textures or anything else in the way of distinguishing characteristics. The bumper and pad do fold over the PsychoGarden structure for storage, however, and in so doing they fulfill their only really useful destiny as a hammock for sleeping pieces when the PsychoGarden is not in use. But you aren't buying the PsychoGarden for the pad or the bumper now, are you, silly?

Now for the high-horse stump speech. Or the stumped high horsey speech:
The PsychoGarden requires C cell batteries to keep its anarchy in focus. I recommend that you go out and buy a Rayovac universal recharging station and a supply of rechargable batteries before considering any battery powered toy. The Rayovac recharger works with their proprietary Renewal rechargable alkaline batteries as well as more standard NiCad and NiMH batteries of all sizes from AAA to D. It may be hard to find, as no store likes to see a reusable technology adopted in favor of consumables. But they are around, and can even be purchased online.
Remember: Reuse is better than recycling, and either is better than tossing old batteries into the trash every time they are depleted. NEVER DISCARD YOUR BATTERIES IN THE TRASH.

Until later, aHAHAHHHAHHAHAHAHHA!!!!! The platters, they spin...they taunt....the pieces laugh at me...tease me. Sammy is now in their control....she is now the daughter of the garden. As I am the son of the PsychoGarden.....

Recommended: Yes

Amount Paid (US$): 9999999999
Type of Toy: Baby Toy
Age Range of Child: 0 to 12 Months