Pinch and a punch for the first of the month. Deadlock. No returns. Of any kind.
A brutal awakening by two children (one in particular) keen to get in first with this monthly ritual. Ah February. All 29 days of you.
Class lists come out on Friday, sticky-taped to the front glass of the school office. We have to be down there checking at the earliest opportunity. Charly is hyper-jittery about which of her friends will or won't be in her class and which teacher she scores. The list looms larger in her imagination than in previous years and takes on far greater significance as she marks her final year of primary school. It has to be a fabulous, memorable year. Like the arrival of February, this milestone has crept up quietly.
Thirty days hath September,
April, June, and November;
February has twenty-eight alone,
All the rest have thirty-one,
Excepting leap-year, that's the time
When February's days are twenty-nine.
April, June, and November;
February has twenty-eight alone,
All the rest have thirty-one,
Excepting leap-year, that's the time
When February's days are twenty-nine.
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