My sister-in-law got the girls a doll house for Christmas two years ago.
It’s four feet tall, purple and pink with stairs, a balcony, and a working elevator. It came fully furnished in the same purple and pink motif, 2 beds, 2 sofas, a dining room table (which was blue for some reason) and chairs, a chaise lounge, two floor lamps, basically the works.
The girls never really got into it. They were a little young to be into playing with dolls in that way. It would be more developmentally appropriate if they got it today. But being that it was there, they did use it. Maybe abuse is a better word.
They sat on the chairs, themselves, laid on the beds, used the furniture as blocks, and the lamps as dumbbells to work out with me. They stacked the furniture like steps to reach things I had put out of reach. They fought and tugged, pulled and screamed over the furniture until pieces came loose. Then then pulled some more just to see if they would come apart. They did.
The furniture is now mostly filling up a landfill somewhere, too broken to fix. And of course, now they’ve gotten into the doll house.