It's a wonder that the Dollhouse family has any use for the three Human boys at all, seeing that Mr. Dollhouse spends most of his time upended in the toilet, the baby is usually stuffed inside the washing machine, and brother Todd Dollhouse is constantly having his arm torn off. Still they're grateful for all the lovely gifts they've been given over the years (perhaps the fact that they come ""alive"" only at Christmas has something to do with their materialistic set of values) and they try to warn each boy in turn that the Humans' house is being cased at night by a pair of burglars. When their clues seem to have failed and the Humans go off skiing, Mr. Dollhouse, who takes his responsibility as the only ""adult male"" left around very seriously, scares the robbers away by igniting cherry bombs. The dolls' ingenious responses to their haphazard environment ought to get a response from that part of us which really longs to believe in toy shelf miracles. But perhaps because of their overweening preoccupation with the mechanics of things, it's hard to work up much affection for the Dollhouses or their Human hosts.