The brat went to his first day at school in 2012 today. The previous week and a half had been a riot of Christmas partying and lunches at nanna's house and his cousin's down for the New Year, more relatives down for the New Year from mamma's side, a New Year's party, much joy and merriment and gluttony and no studying and gifts being showered on him by all and sundry and naturally the prospect that all this must end and the drib drabbery of the school home tuition homework routine would start again was quite a mood dampener last evening.
Especially when reminded the school bag needed to be packed. He draped himself listlessly on various items of furniture and didn't do much packing as mandated.
Mamma took the bag, checked the books, diary, pencil box for pencils sharpened to a point, sharpened the ones that weren't, packed the bag and the book. He emerged to attach the Barcelona keychain received from doting great aunt onto the bag zip and disappeared back into the other room where he was having Spiderman kill some million people off.
After a while he waddled back into his room where I was getting his clothes in order for the next day. "Tomorrow I go back to the third standard?"
Yes, son, I informed him much to his dismay.
"Wai?" he said piteously, "My budday is over and New Year is over. Everything is one year more. I should go back to the fourth standard."
No, I assured him. He had to go back to class three and there was no escaping it.
He emerged from school this afternoon, sullenfaced and grumpy. "What happened, son?" I asked.
"Wai you dint tell me we are 12 years today. I wrote leven years. I had to rub out everything and write all the dates of my worksheet again."