Lost In e-Translation

This year I’ve decided to leave nothing to chance. My birthday is coming up in a mere three weeks, which gives me not a lot of time to subtly lay the foundations to make sure I get what I need.

You see, disaster struck a few weeks ago. My eBook reader died and, unfortunately, the budget simply doesn’t stretch to buying a replacement at the moment.

So I put together a cunning plan.

“You know my birthday is coming up?” I asked Miss6 last night as we ducked out to Woolies for some supplies. She did, possibly because I’d mentioned it a lot lately.

I’d chosen her for this mission because the rest of the kids at home are either too young to pass on messages or too old not to demand something in return for being the messenger.

“When Mummy mentions my birthday, you should tell her, ‘You know what we should buy Daddy? A Kindle.'”

“A what?”

“A Kindle. Can you say Kindle for me?”

“No.”

“Come on, sweetie. Kin-dle.”

“Kin-dle.”

“That’s right,” I encouraged her. “But say it in a sentence. ‘You know what we should buy Daddy for his birthday? A Kindle.”

And we practiced all the way from the car to the deli to the coffee shelves to the checkout and back to the car.

“Only don’t say it unless Mummy brings it up,” I added as we stepped out of the car at home.

Perfect. Three weeks and I could get back to walking around town at lunch, reading and avoiding poles. What could possibly go wrong?

“So, I believe your birthday is coming up soon,” Tracey said to me this morning while I made us coffees.

“Really?” I said nonchalantly, feigning disinterest.

“Hmmmmm….and I’ve been given a suggestion on what to buy you by one of the kids.”

So much for only saying her line when Mummy brought the subject up. By the looks of things she’d raced into the bedroom this morning and woken her mother with it.

“I just don’t know if it’s what you really want or not,” said Tracey. Now she was toying with me. I’d been complaining about not having an ereader a couple of times a day since it stopped working.

“Well, kids are very perceptive. They notice things. I wouldn’t dismiss it entirely.” I grinned and handed Trace her coffee. “Whatever it is.”

“It’s just we’ve already got a few in the house,” continued Tracey, “and I didn’t realize you’d want one of your own. But still, as you say, kids know.”

“Wait,” I stammered. Something wasn’t right here. “What?”

Tracey leaned in to whisper. “I’ve been told you want a Ken Doll for your birthday.” She tried to get it out with a straight face but didn’t quite make it to the end of the sentence.

“Did I get it right, Daddy!” Miss6 yelled from where she was peaking out from behind our bedroom door.

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