Mom bought me a cherry red Fender Stratocaster guitar when I was 7.
Something like this:
I gave it up after about 6 months when it seemed more like work than fun. I could only practice in the basement. I couldn't crank the amp up. And worst of all my instructor asked me to learn the song "Jean".
There was a girl named Jean in my class. We weren't technically cousins but all the kids use to tease me that we were. (Her uncle was my uncle in law. My aunt, her aunt in law.) I hated her because of all the teasing and she hated me. I sure didn't want to play a song that had her name.
That guitar became worth real money when I was in high school and I was proud of it even if I didn't play it. My mom took it from my room and put it out on her garage sale for $100. By then I had turn down offers for over $1000. I didn't notice it was not in my closet for a while. When I did, I asked Mom what happened to it and she told me. I asked her if she realized what it was worth. She did. She was mad that I never used it so she sold it to someone who would. Funny thing was, she had a sax in the storage closet that she played when she was in the high school band. She didn't sell it. Just my guitar.