‘Twas the day after Christmas and all through the Slope there was gift wrap and packaging in the apartment building garbage pails.

Daughter and I were walking to a friends when we saw something quite extraordinary in front of one of the limestone buildings just a few doors away.

A beautiful doll house — a three-story mansion, really — with a small shopping bag full of faux-elegant doll furniture.

It was being discarded, we surmised, because its owner had to make space for her new gifts. The bedrooms are quite small in the buildings on Third Street. We knew that most of the girls in that building are ten or older — perhaps its owner had finally outgrown the doll house.

Maybe it was some kind of spiritual exchange. The child had been taught that in order to receive a gift, she had to give something away….

All possible explanations for the doll house’s presence on the Third Street pavement.

The doll house was in good condition. Nothing a little Fantastik couldn’t shine up. And the small shopping bag filled with doll furniture was a gesture that said: here take this. It’s yours if you want to carry it away.

First we looked at the house, discussed whether or not to take it, and decided it was too much trouble as we had somewhere to be. I was surprised that Daughter was able to pass it by.

Then she backed up.

"Can we take it? Please?" she begged.
"Where are you going to put it?" I said. Her room is tiny.
"Please?"
"You already have a doll house," I said reminding her of the mid-century modern doll house I’d bought for $20 dollars at a stoop sale on Third Street complete with a shopping bag full of incredible doll furniture.
"I know. But one’s a mansion…"

A mansion maybe. But it’s made out of molded plastic and says Fisher Price right on it. The mid-century modern one we’ve already got is so much more tasteful.

Still, we carried it into the vestibule of our building. "You’re going to need to clean this thing up." I said. "I know," she said. "I know."

The large plastic doll mansion is sitting on top of Daughter’s homework desk until we clear more space in her room. Her Polly Pocket dolls have already taken up residence. The scale isn’t quite right. Whatever.

Let’s see. What item can we choose to discard, to place on the street with a note that says: Take this. It’s yours if you want to carry it away.