(This is for the Slice of Life challenge, hosted by Two Writing Teachers. We write on Tuesdays about the small moments in the larger perspective … or is that the larger perspective in the smaller moments? You write, too.)
I came stomping into the house, overstating my frustration.
“Hey,” I told him, and he looked up from playing Minecraft. “You know you live in a house with two educators?”
Silence. He was trying to figure out what I was getting at.
“Yeah?” he answered, rather reluctantly.
“Soooo,” I said, drawing out my word, “when we write with chalk on the driveway, you better check your spelling.”
Silence. Now he could see where this was going.
“And you have two spelling errors in what you wrote at the end of the driveway. Too and You’re. Common errors, for sure, but fixable.”
“Get out there and fix it!”
He looked up at me.
“You’re kidding me, right?”
My wife, who is much more of a stickler for public spelling errors than I am, joined in.
“Yes, you are going to fix it. That’s our driveway!”
“Because,” she said, “if you don’t, you will lose all screen time for the week.”
“This is ridiculous.”
She started to do the dreaded “countdown to doom.”
“One. Two. If I get to three …”
“OK. OK. Sheesh. I don’t even know if we have more chalk.”
I chimed in. “Let me help you find some, then,” and I did, and he and I walked out to what he wrote. We stared at the sentence for a bit.
If your reading this, it’s to late.
“You’re is a contraction. You and Are. To means also. Double o’s,” I pointed out.
He reached down and fixed the two words, with a big more dramatic chalking than was necessary.
“This is so ridiculous,” he muttered, and then wandered back into the house, tossing the chalk for good measure.
Peace (spelled correctly),