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I opened the Christmas present eagerly. It was obviously something very expensive because it was big. Still I wondered a bit what could be this huge. Knowing my husband I could expect just about anything. I loved him dearly, but let’s say he 2)didn’t really have a clue what to get me as a present, no matter what the occasion is. I had learned to take it with 3)good humor—after all, it is the4)thought that counts, isn’t it?
This time he had really 5)outdone himself. I almost burst out laughing when the secret was revealed—a 6)table hockey game. He looked like a small boy when he rushed to explain to me all the 7)fine details of the game.
“You are so sweet,” I kissed him on the cheek, “but this time I am sure you did a Tarzan.”
“I did… What? What on earth does that mean?” he looked 8)baffled.
“Let me explain,” I smiled, “When my father was a small boy, his family was very poor. If ever he managed to get a coin, he ran to the railway station. There was a small newsstand for the travellers. It sold newspapers, but also something very important for a little boy: cheap 9)paperbacks. And not just any paperbacks but stories of the adventures of Tarzan. These were his treasures. He could forget himself in the great adventures for hours 10)on end. He loved them.”
“But how do you ‘do a Tarzan’?” my husband wanted to know.
“I’m just getting there. So—then his father’s birthday came. He wanted to buy him a gift but did not have money for it. His mother gave him a small coin when she saw how miserable he was, not being able to buy his father a present. He wandered what he could buy with such a small sum. He wondered around with the coin in his pocket and somehow found himself at the railway station again. There he stood, in front of the little 11)kiosk. He saw a new Tarzan book had come out. Oh, the 12)agony! He could not buy it and knew it would be gone when he would have money next time. What to do?”
My husband started to laugh, he got it.
“Oh, yes,” I nodded, “my father bought the book as a present to his own father. So, when ever we see someone give a present they themselves want, we say he did a Tarzan.”
My husband looked a bit funny.
“But this time you succeeded,” I smiled, “I’m more than happy to play the table hockey game with you.”
The grin that spread to his face proved the old saying right. Men never really grow up. Thank goodness.
This time he had really 5)outdone himself. I almost burst out laughing when the secret was revealed—a 6)table hockey game. He looked like a small boy when he rushed to explain to me all the 7)fine details of the game.
“You are so sweet,” I kissed him on the cheek, “but this time I am sure you did a Tarzan.”
“I did… What? What on earth does that mean?” he looked 8)baffled.
“Let me explain,” I smiled, “When my father was a small boy, his family was very poor. If ever he managed to get a coin, he ran to the railway station. There was a small newsstand for the travellers. It sold newspapers, but also something very important for a little boy: cheap 9)paperbacks. And not just any paperbacks but stories of the adventures of Tarzan. These were his treasures. He could forget himself in the great adventures for hours 10)on end. He loved them.”
“But how do you ‘do a Tarzan’?” my husband wanted to know.
“I’m just getting there. So—then his father’s birthday came. He wanted to buy him a gift but did not have money for it. His mother gave him a small coin when she saw how miserable he was, not being able to buy his father a present. He wandered what he could buy with such a small sum. He wondered around with the coin in his pocket and somehow found himself at the railway station again. There he stood, in front of the little 11)kiosk. He saw a new Tarzan book had come out. Oh, the 12)agony! He could not buy it and knew it would be gone when he would have money next time. What to do?”
My husband started to laugh, he got it.
“Oh, yes,” I nodded, “my father bought the book as a present to his own father. So, when ever we see someone give a present they themselves want, we say he did a Tarzan.”
My husband looked a bit funny.
“But this time you succeeded,” I smiled, “I’m more than happy to play the table hockey game with you.”
The grin that spread to his face proved the old saying right. Men never really grow up. Thank goodness.