There Is An Entry

“This is hard,” Tommy grumbled, hunched over his homework paper.

I peeked over his shoulder. The homework was about the different uses for ‘there’, ‘their,’ and ‘they’re.’

“Oh,” I said. “It’s okay, even grown adults struggle with that.”

“Huh?”

“Seriously, if you go on Facebook, grown adults don’t use the words right and it takes all of Mommy’s strength not to mock them profusely. I know my grammar isn’t the best but really, one should know the different uses of ‘there’, ‘their,’ and ‘they’re,’” I rambled.

“You won’t let me on Facebook,” Tommy complained.

“That’s because you’re eight. Now. Let’s figure this homework out,” I said, settling beside him. “So okay, an example for they’re. It means they are. So....Mommy wonders why Billy Ray Cyrus allows his daughter to forgo her pants in her music videos when she’s under 18. THEY’RE a strange family. Do you understand?”

Tommy stared at me with saucer eyes.

“And here’s an example for their. Mommy wishes more of your friends would use THEIR manners. Get it?”

Tommy looked down at his paper. “So they’re means they are.”

“Yes!” I shouted, elated. He understood!

“There are my Reeses Peanut Butter Cups. You better not eat them,” I finished.

“What?” Tommy scowled.

“I just gave you an example for the final there. And that sentence is true, by the way. Never eat my Peanut Butter Cups. Trust me, I need them more than you do. Now. Can you give examples back to me?”

Tommy bit his lip. “There is your mustache,” he said, pointing to my upper lip.

“Excuse me, I don’t think so,” I fumed, my fingers immediately going above my lip. Actually, crap, when was the last time I waxed? Since Tom has been gone, I haven’t quite kept up. Sometimes being a part of a hairy family isn’t always fun. It’s not like Burt Reynolds up there but if you’re standing close enough to me, you’ll definitely see some major fuzz-age.

Tommy giggled. “I’m kidding,” but I think he just said it to make me feel better.

“So an example for t-h-e-i-r?” I continued.

“Girls look pretty in their skirts,” Tommy finished.

“Right! But...yes, that’s right but, we don’t gape at girls. Okay?” Gosh, eight years old and he was already going girl crazy.

“The final they’re means they are, right?” Tommy questions. He chewed on the top of his pencil. He’s constantly biting off his erasers. It’s disgusting.

“Yup.”

“Ummm....I like Nintendo DS games, they’re cool and I hope Santa brings me a lot of them or else I’ll be sad,” Tommy said triumphantly.

Note to self: buy DS games for Christmas.

“Exactly. You get it!” I said excitedly. You have to understand that schoolwork doesn’t always come easy to Tommy. We’ve sat doing homework for HOURS before and a lot of times we wind up in tears. Especially if it’s math, because I’m not the best at describing it seeing as I think it’s the Devil’s Work.

“There is a Reeses Peanut Butter Cup that I’m going to eat,” Tommy taunted.

“Son, we don’t joke about matters like that.”