If you have a child in the house, yesterday you were probably ambushed with a pinch and a punch for the first of the month. LittleDavyTwo got me before I had a chance to notice the date in the newspaper.
And if you happen to be a church-goer you will know that the Sunday just passed was the First Sunday of Advent, the season of preparing for Christmas.
Many years ago, when the LittleDavys were very little, we came across a charming advent calendar that tells the Christmas story in 25 little books. Not a chocolate in sight.
It became part of our ritual after baths and in pyjamas that the LittleDavys would take it in turn to read the next instalment. In the early days they would struggle with the words, and I would have to sit on my hands under the stern gaze of MrsDavy as they seriously strove. Then there would be prayers for the full extended family and people from the day. And they would count out the remaining books, and speculate about presents, and hugs and kisses and off to dreamy bed.
The remarkable discipline of MrsDavy means that we still have the complete set, and we still gather to read it of an evening, and it’s become a moment of remembering all our Davy Christmases. Just because.