Decades ago, more than six at least, ‘Mother’s Day’ meant very little to myself and many other children of that time. We knew it was a day dedicated to mothers and in some cases grandmothers.
The greatest significance (for us) at that time was the almost forced purchase of poppies to pin on your school shirt—a red one if your mother was alive and a white one if your mother was deceased.
This little act (wearing the poppy) meant a great deal to us as children. It purported to show that we dearly loved our mothers for all they did and were still doing for us.