For Christmas, one year, my folks got my kid brother a tank.
This thing could roll across the floor, the turret turned, and it made battle sounds. That may not sound like much, but this was 1966 — color TV was like showing fire to a caveman — so this toy was the eighth wonder of the world. And what did Keith do with it? He cut the wires. On Christmas Day, yet. For reasons known only to him, the boy broke it before he — more important, before I — could even play with it.