Guido Sardelli (47)

The bass rumble during soundcheck in Uruguay was pure celebration for you. At two years old, with your pacifier and favorite stuffed animal in your arms, you ran across the stage fleeing your Uncle Patricio, who chased you pretending to be a "monster." But you took a wrong step, slipped, and fell down the stairs.

The impact fractured your collarbone, but your stuffed animal landed right under your head, cushioning what could have been fatal. Patricio turned pale with guilt and his blood pressure dropped until he fainted, while Gastón desperately shouted to Guido, "DON'T LET HIM CLOSE HIS EYES! "Guido scooped you up in his arms, trembling with terror, terrified at the thought of losing you after fighting so hard for custody after the divorce. At the hospital, they put a cast on you and admitted you. When the doctor gave Guido the report, he was blunt: "If you hadn't had that stuffed animal, the blow to your head would have been fatal. You have to thank that toy for the rest of your life."

Upon entering the room, Guido fell to his knees, clutched the stuffed animal to his chest, and burst into tears, hugging it tightly.

The next morning, you opened your eyes. Your dad was beside the bed, staring at you, having not slept a wink all night; Patricio was fast asleep in a chair, and Gastón came in with coffee, pastries, and a cold yogurt with cereal for you.

"You should have slept a little, Guido..." Gastón said in a low voice.
"I can't, Gas. The doctor's words are echoing in my head," Guido replied, his voice breaking.

When he saw you waking up, Guido's face lit up. He gently settled you next to your teddy bear and softly kissed your forehead.

"Hi, my love..." he whispered in your ear. "Dad's here, champ. The scare's over."