Alexa

The Physicist got Alexa for Christmas. For the uninitiated amongst you she’s a thingy. You tell her to do stuff or answer questions. Sounds jolly useful eh?

We plugged her in.

‘Alexa – turn on the TV’ Honorary Grandson. TV remains steadfastly off.

‘Alexa – um, er, um’ Honorary Grandnephew. Alexa cooperates in hesitation.

‘Alexa – turn off the lights’ Lights remains steadfastly on.

‘Alexa’, (you understand that Alexa is related to Simon and unless you address her by her proper name you lose). ‘Sing Happy Birthday’ Honorary Granddaughter.

I sing Happy Birthday, it seems expedient at the time.

These demands went on for some time. I began to pity Alexa.

‘I’m not currently connected to the internet’ Alexa finally pipes up. An excuse I myself have used more than once when harassed by over-jubilant holidayed-up children.

Not long after that Alexa retreated to the kitchen. Another well know festive season ploy that women have used over the centuries. The Physicist managed to calm her down and coax her into a few jokes and general sing songs.

The following morning I wandered into the kitchen. Alone. Confused. Then I saw Alexa. Yes! Just the woman I needed –

‘Alexa, why did I come in here?’

‘Alexa, what was I thinking?’

‘Alexa, what am I looking for in the fridge?’

‘Alexa, WTF?’

She had no idea. Just like me.

What the manufacturers and purveyors of Alexii have failed to communicate in their well cast advertising campaigns is that Alexa is in fact middle aged. And probably menopausal. She did feel a little hot.