When you were a kid, you had to trudge two miles through knee-deep snow just to get a look at a talking Teddy Ruxpin doll. These days, kids have their own talking, moving, $300 robot dinosaurs that are big enough to ride.
"What" does all that "mean," Playskool? So the robot dinosaur doesn't actually come to life? How can you be sure?
The one comfort that we, as adults and non-personal-robot-dinosaur-owners, can have in looking at something like this is the knowledge that when the robot revolution comes, and the "Kill humans" signal is sent to all robot sensors, kids with Kotas will suddenly become the unluckiest people in the world. While you're kicking your Roomba across the room, trying to prevent it from violently vacuuming you to death, you can at least have one final, smug thought before the Roomba regroups, knocks you down, and sucks all of the air from your lungs, "Well," you'll think as you notice for the first time that Roombas have teeth, "At least I'm not being trampled to death by one of those robot baby dinosaurs."
I mean, sure, that dinosaur looks adorable now, but those giant plastic eyes will look a lot less cute when they're glowing red with robot rage.