Lost in translation

Last night, Hannah was out playing in the play area behind our house and was meeting new friends - as has been the norm of late. During one of her regular check-ins I asked her about the new kids she's meeting. She informed me that one of the kids is a little boy named Ishmael. Without missing a beat - and for obvious reasons - I said, "Oh cool. Ask him if he knows a big white whale."

Hannah seemed a little unsure about this latest unintelligible rambling, but she was anxious to get back out to play so she tried to verify the question she was supposed to ask...

H: A big fat whale?
M: No - a big, white whale. (pause) But he won't know. It's classic literature and it's boring.
H: Ok. But I'm going to ask him anyway.

So she ran off to sweat some more and I sat down to go over "Mom stuff" (schedules and bills and all the less-glamorous stuff that we moms do).

When she came in for the night, and before getting ready for bed, she was recounting all of her latest (mis)adventures. In the course of her tale, she brought me up to speed on Ishmael. And she was quite smug about it at first, I might add...

H: Oh - and he does know him.
M: Who?
H: Ishmael.
M: He does??
H: Yeah.
M: (doubtful) Really. Then what's his name?
H: Well, apparently, he knows LOTS of white people.

Come to find out, Ishmael is black. And Hannah asked him if he knows a big white male instead of a big white whale.

Minor detail, right?