Mom told me several good stories today, complete with permission to post.
The most memorable harks back to when she had produced her three daughters, but doesn't think she'd had her son yet... She's not sure. My dad always teased her in March, as she'd forget EVERY YEAR about the short count of days in February. Why did that matter? She was always "very regular -- every thirty days", a definite taboo subject for people her age.
March first would roll around, and she'd fear pregnancy (after three, the doctor told her a further pregnancy would put her life at risk...) She'd get all in a dither, then Dad would remind her of the short count. (So, Mom, why wasn't it off after every month with 31 days? That would move it off six days a year, no?)