One evening when I was about 16, I was babysitting two little girls, aged about 6 and 10.I had brought along the first guitar I ever owned to entertain them. It was a really crappy Sears Silvertone which my father, who was learning guitar-making, had rebuilt, improving the tone greatly. The older kid had a guitar of her own and was learning to play, so I let her play mine, but the younger one had no clue and was physically very small for the instrument, so I told her not to touch it. She kept teasing me by pretending to grab it, and I threatened her with major repercussions if anything happened to it. When it was bedtime, I laid the guitar on top of the closed case and told them to go to bed. They both started tickling me, and when I fended them off, the big one fell into the little one, who tripped and put her knee through the top of the guitar. She then started crying in terror, and I had to reassure her that I knew it was an accident. As traumatic as it was at the time, it all turned out okay, because when my father repaired it, it sounded even better, and he went one step farther on the road to guitar-building. But since then, I have NEVER, EVER left a guitar on top of the case.