When my son was seven, he made a huge painting for me. It was objectively awful, but he was incredibly proud. I displayed it in my office for years. During a move, it got damaged by water and had to be thrown away.
When he asked, I said it was probably lost in one of the boxes. He is 22 now and occasionally jokes that I better find his "masterpiece" someday. I still pretend it might be somewhere in storage. I don't know why I can't just tell him. Maybe because for years that ugly painting was one of my favorite possessions.