The wrong words

The words you do not want to hear from a child when you pick them up from Étude (Orchestra) Camp…

…I broke…
…my cello…
Yes, those are horrible words to hear from a child. 
The jokes that followed did not make me feel any better about the situation. 
It did not make me feel better that they told me they were practically in a construction zone today or that it should have been considered a hard hat zone. The fact that the next statement is that the cellos needed hard hats more than the players did, was no more comforting. 
These are the woes of growth, I suppose. 
Fortunately, the cello is a rental and is covered by a rental insurance policy still. That does not make me feel better that it is in fact broken. 
The good news is that it is not too bad. Upon first glances, you cannot even tell. It is cracked right at the rib on the top left side of the cello. The problem is that the rib did not just split open, it is actually cracked and the front face has a small crack in it too. 
It is actually quite sad…
Poor cello!!! Poor Andrew!!!
And the count stands at: 
Cello bow – 5
Cello – 2
As of right now neither of the broken cellos were entirely Andrew’s fault. The first time, the rib popped loose. It was his 3/4 sized cello then. It happens. The glue ages and gives way. Evidently it is more common in our hotter, more humid climate.
The debate is still out on te bows, however. Sword fighting? Bayoneting? Jousting?  We are not entirely sure because the people at Lisle Violin Shop assured me that cello bows do not break where he kept breaking them. Of course as soon as I upgraded him to a nicer, more expensive, higher quality bow we have not broken one since. 

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