I have nothing to say about xylophones except that I remember wanting one as a child. To me, they were like pianos you could bash with a hammer. Which was probably why when I got one, it broke. It had
keys (do you call them keys? let me look it up … oooh, I learned something new) bars made of rainbow-coloured pieces of metal that eventually sounded less melodic than if I’d had a series of tin cans lined up.
What did I learn? I learned a xylophone has wooden keys and the ones with metal keys are glockenspiels. So there you go: I’ve never owned a xylophone.
I feel like my whole childhood was a lie now. Thanks Wikipedia.