Are your kids more intelligent than you?
It's 8.16am and I am trying to not appear tense. My eldest daughter is hunting around in her bedroom. She has an important AS level exam this morning and I have offered to drive her to school because I don't trust the buses - or her for that matter - to get there on time.
But I don't have just one child, I have three. And after I have dropped my teenager off at the sixth form, I then have to drive my youngest daughter through traffic to her school. (I had an argument with the woman in the office who registers the "lates" last month, so I don't fancy having to face her again).
"What are you looking for?" I say; my teeth are gritted and I can feel my blood beginning to boil.
"A see-through pencil case", she says casually.
Okay, that's it, I've lost it: "WHY WAS THIS NOT SORTED OUT LAST NIGHT?!!!" I yell.
Luckily, my clever, sweet middle daughter finds a transparent pencil case and we can finally leave, and not before time.
I just find exams sooo stressful. Especially if I'm not the one doing them, because then I've got no control.
Last week, when I couldn't help my daughter with her maths homework because it was way too complicated for me, I realised that with all my efforts and ambitions for my children, I have produced offspring who are better educated than I am. I am not sure how I feel about this: pleased and proud, obviously; but also a little ambivalent.
We've started looking at universities (and have tried not to think about the, gulp, £9,000 a year tuition fees) and while trawling through prospectuses my eldest said: "If I do biology at uni, then I won't be doing maths and I would really miss maths."
That’s when I realised that she has been studying maths since she was four years old and can't envisage life without it. I, on the other hand, gave up on maths when I was a teenager and can't imagine ever being able to truly master it.
Right, plastic see-through pencil case at the ready, I see her trotting off to school for the first of a series of really important exams that will decide her future. I turn the car around and race to the primary school, determined not to have to face the clipboard dragon who writes down the names of the “lates” in the office.
It's not nerve-wracking at all, honest.