When I was young, I visited my uncle for a few days during my holidays. He was a milkman in Haarlem, a gregarious person and he had his addresses where he went for a cup of coffee.
At one address, they had spirograph, a wonderful toy, I played with it for a few days and I loved it. When I went home, he "paid" me and instructed me to buy sprirograph for myself. I told him that I could not do this.
He called my parents and told me about it. They assured him that I could if I wanted to. I may have been nine or ten and, to me it was the kind of thing that is wonderful to play with when you come across it but not the kind of thing that I would always play with.