My prayer today is about homework. It goes something like this:

Dear God,

Please, please please send me a maths teacher by immediate Angel, or alternatively just grant my 5 year old the knowledge of how to subtract 10 from other numbers. Unsurprisingly, I have been completely unable to explain this in the last 30 minutes, and I am starting to feel ever so slightly feverish. I have a headache. He is bouncing off the walls because I decided to use the rest of the Halloween sweets to demonstrate the taking away of 10.  He has now eaten rather a lot of sweets, and there is the chance he could vomit on me.

I will just pop to the kitchen, make a gin and tonic and get some cheese. I will be eternally grateful if you could grant my prayer by the time I sit back down. We are still only on question 2 out of 8.

Of course the yummy mummy will not need such a prayer. She will have planned in advance, probably booking tutors for the little darlings by placing them on the waiting list while in Utero. She will probably also have invested in books like Q is for quinoa, and other learning aids.