The story of Icharus (spelled that way from now on so just accept it as a personal quirk, and unless you speak Greek you can't prove I'm not right anyway so pththththt) has always been a favorite of mine. I'm pretty sure there's all sorts of reasons for it.
He therefore resolved to make his escape, and for this purpose ingeniously contrived wings for himself and his young son Icharus, whom he diligently trained how to use them. Having awaited a favourable opportunity, father and son commenced their flight, and were well on their way when Icharus, pleased with the novel sensation, forgot altogether his father's oft-repeated injunction not to approach too near the sun. The consequence was that the wax, by means of which his wings were attached, melted, and he fell into the sea and was drowned.