Stoop Sal-ing
Just had to report some of the amazing deals we got this weekend at local stoop sales, the browsing of which is at the top of my weekend priorities whenever we’re in town.
Little People farm set (with all animals except the sheep)
Little People bus (with lots of people)
Little People plane (with lots of people)
amazing leotard-with-poofy-tutu ensemble for Lucia’s future dress-up box
five Matchbox cars
small firetruck
Brookstone white noise machine
Total expenditure: $19. Plus a few free books and two nice melamine plates left by the curb. There’s no place like Brooklyn for great trash.
The only problem with all this (besides our swiftly filling-up apartment) is that I’m pretty sure I bought the farm set out from under the hands of a little boy who was still playing with it. When I asked the price, the mother told me and then admitted that selling the Little People was a big deal for her, since both of her kids had loved them. As she spoke, her little boy was on the ground, still playing with the farm. She had to distract him while she put it in a bag for me. I was a little taken aback—clearly this was a casualty of an overzealous spring cleaning. Getting rid of toys is anathema to an Orlando, let alone getting rid of toys that are still clearly beloved. I felt bad, but the farm has a good new home now, one that it will never, ever have to leave.
Andrew and another Park Slope father shared a bonding moment today at a stoop sale. I and the man’s wife were both digging through bins of toys, piling up our purchases, and the man and Andrew were shaking their heads as they watched, with our stroller-bound offspring, from a distance. The man told Andrew he wished he could enforce a one-toy-in/one-toy-out policy, an idea Andrew approved of. Of course, I laughed dismissively.
Little People farm set (with all animals except the sheep)
Little People bus (with lots of people)
Little People plane (with lots of people)
amazing leotard-with-poofy-tutu ensemble for Lucia’s future dress-up box
five Matchbox cars
small firetruck
Brookstone white noise machine
Total expenditure: $19. Plus a few free books and two nice melamine plates left by the curb. There’s no place like Brooklyn for great trash.
The only problem with all this (besides our swiftly filling-up apartment) is that I’m pretty sure I bought the farm set out from under the hands of a little boy who was still playing with it. When I asked the price, the mother told me and then admitted that selling the Little People was a big deal for her, since both of her kids had loved them. As she spoke, her little boy was on the ground, still playing with the farm. She had to distract him while she put it in a bag for me. I was a little taken aback—clearly this was a casualty of an overzealous spring cleaning. Getting rid of toys is anathema to an Orlando, let alone getting rid of toys that are still clearly beloved. I felt bad, but the farm has a good new home now, one that it will never, ever have to leave.
Andrew and another Park Slope father shared a bonding moment today at a stoop sale. I and the man’s wife were both digging through bins of toys, piling up our purchases, and the man and Andrew were shaking their heads as they watched, with our stroller-bound offspring, from a distance. The man told Andrew he wished he could enforce a one-toy-in/one-toy-out policy, an idea Andrew approved of. Of course, I laughed dismissively.
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