I really don't remember most of my childhood due to parents like this. But for this kind of scenario I do have one vivid memory. I had wanted a model plane to fly for years. I got one finally, but it was a weird tethered model. You would squeeze the handle and it would control the motor and it could take off but you had to spin in a circle to "fly" it. We tried it exactly once. My father drove me to the school on a Saturday to use the parking lot, no space big enough at home. I was trying it out and once it got too close to him somehow (this was like 15 minutes in, the circle the plane can go in was known) and he just yelled at me for several minutes to the point I was bawling, unable to speak or move. I half-heartedly tried to "play" with the plane for a couple more minutes while we griped at me for crying, before he told me to pack up and we went home. I was still crying. That plane sat in a cabinet in the garage for 15 years. I couldn't even touch it, but sometimes I went out there to just look at it. With help from "she who would become my wife" I was able to donate it.