As a kid, I accidentally knocked over the TV in our living room. I kept looking at the shattered screen, dreading my dad’s reaction when he came home.

When he finally walked in, I burst into tears and started apologizing.“It was an accident, I swear!” I sobbed.

My dad looked at the mess and said, “Kid, that’s not the first TV to go down in this house.” Then he told me a story about how he broke his family’s TV as a kid while playing soccer indoors.

That night, we watched cartoons together on the old spare TV, and I realized he cared more about the memories we made than the things we broke.