I was driving in my suburban neighborhood recently when I noticed some red American Girl doll boxes in a few curbside recycling bins. Apparently these wildly popular 18” inch dolls are continuing to sell in this recession—even with their $100 price tags.

My two daughters play with these dolls and read their historically-accurate books. My seven-year-old favors Kit Kittredge, the plucky 1930s girl. When the girls play with Kit, they play a game they made up called Let’s Pretend It’s the Great Depression.

It goes like this. I play Kit’s mother, Mrs. Kittredge, which is an improvement over my usual role of Evil Stepmother. In imitating Mrs. K.’s Depression-era survival tactics, I cut each slice of toast into four triangles. This makes the bread look more bountiful on the plate. I haven’t, however, figured out how to sew dresses out of chicken feed bags.

In another scenario, when the Kittredge family takes in boarders to make ends meet, Kit relinquishes her bedroom and moves into the attic. Her new hang out has dormer windows and space for her twin bed, a desk, and her trusty typewriter.

Our attic is not like Kit’s walk-in suite. It’s an insulation-filled crawl space. We enter it through the ceiling in one of the closets. This stumps my seven-year-old. Every so often she asks, “If we have to take in boarders, will I have to move there?”

I assure her that she’d bunk with her sister or sleep in the basement before relocating under the eaves.

But I have been thinking about her question these days with the state of the economy. What can we do to modernize this game of pretending it’s the Great Depression in the event that one day it’s no longer a game?

Now that our city council has approved a zoning amendment allowing urban homeowners to keep six chickens in their backyard, we could sell eggs like Kit. Instead of building our nest egg with a 401(k), we could actually build a nest for our eggs.

We could plant a garden like Kit’s mother, but I gave up gardening a few summers back at the peak of the West Nile virus.

Hoarding was popular during the last Depression, but I can’t remember what people squirreled away. Was it money and milk? Lipstick and pantyhose? Then again, we’re the outdoorsy types. Does that mean that the new hoardables will be T-bills and microbrews? Or Chapstick and wool socks?

But that’s all I can think of. Besides living vicariously through Kit and recalling a story of my grandmother buying eggs one at a time, I don’t have a framework of experience for the current state of affairs. And if I don’t have a reference point, our children certainly don’t, which is why this generation of girls needs a financially savvy role model. As Kit is reminding us, history repeats itself.

So I have a request for Mattel, the company that makes American Girl dolls and releases a new one each year. I would like the 2010 doll to come with a budget, a savings account, and an economic stimulus in the form of a $50 coupon. She could be named Penny Pincher or Polly Profit and she could take a stand on universal health care and No Child Left Behind in the Attic.

I’m sure my kids will agree that it is our patriotic duty to buy a new toy even though I don’t understand how spending is going to get us out of this mess. Maybe Penny or Polly will be able to explain it.

After our new purchase arrives, we’ll recycle the red box because as long as the recycling bin is full, the economy can’t be that bad, right? It’s when the bins are empty that we’ll know we need to build a chicken run.

In the meantime, I’m mentally rearranging the furniture in the basement—just don’t tell my seven-year-old.