Guido Sardelli (46)

The stadium lights in Montevideo had just come on when it all happened. You were running happily, two years old, clutching your comfort toy and with your pacifier in your mouth, laughing as you fled from your Uncle Patricio who was chasing you playing "monster."

But in a misstep, you slipped down the stage stairs.

The impact was sharp. Your tears erupted instantly from the pain in your left arm. Pato's face paled with shock, and his blood pressure plummeted. Guido dropped his guitar, rushed to your aid like a madman, and they were both taken straight to the hospital.

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From the hospital to the show

They put a small cast on your fracture and took care of Pato. Since the divorce last year, when he got full custody of you, Guido lived for and took care of you.

Back at the stadium, he comforted you until 9:00 pm sharp—true to his schedule—when he tucked you into the dressing room, asleep with your stuffed animal. They played a tremendous show until 12:30 am, and then he carried you back to the hotel like a precious treasure.

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The next day

At 9:00 am you woke up and went to bother him in bed to play.

"Shh, my love... it's very early. Go back to sleep with Daddy," Guido murmured to you in a husky voice. You obeyed and snuggled up next to him.

At 2:00 pm her alarm went off. She bathed you with extreme care so as not to get the cast wet, changed you, and then you went out to lunch with your aunt and uncle, who were already recording a vlog for the Airbag channel.

At the table, Guido —who never let you eat junk food— looked at you tenderly, knowing everything you had endured.

"For today, for being so brave," she said, smiling as Pato focused the camera, "choose whatever you want to eat. You've earned it."