Multi-tasking

It is said that women are better at multi-tasking than men. Now, this is usually pointed out to you by a woman, and as such I think is a slight exaggeration.  I for one can think of many times when I do two things at once, like when I browse the internet whilst talking on Skype (the key is to do it without moving your eyes), and all the lads I knew at University could play a PlayStation whilst studying for finals (notes on knees, osmosis learning). 

And yeah, it's rude to check out bbc sport while catching up with your mum on Skype. And yeah, everyone got Third Class Degrees. But that's not the point now, is it?

The point is this whole multi-taking business. 

Recently, a theory has occurred to me: could the origin of women's supposed prowess be in the history of women as mothers? 

Could it be the generations of mothers holding a child in one hand, while stirring a stew with the other, simultaneously fending off would be suitors has led to the modern day phenomenon that is the 2008 model multi-tasking uber woman? Man, during those thousands of years, was of course single tasking: 100% focused on more important things, like making fire, thinking up the rules of cricket or quoting Simpson's lines.  

However, I have recently found that I have become much more skilled in this womanly art. I find myself increasingly in the situation of being both hungry and holding a child. Well, specifically Leah, before any sick confusion starts to creep in. 

But what am I going to do? I can't put the little 'un down in case her mother walks in and catches me and I get a week long stretch of diaper detail. But I have to eat. This is something me and the bub clearly share. Another twenty minutes of this and Leah is starting to look less and less like a cutely swaddled baby and more and more like a neatly wrapped monster sashimi. 

But, almost before you know it, like a one-armed James Bond, cereal is removed from cupboards, bananas are chopped, milk is poured, a pot of coffee is on and me and me and the little one are sitting on he couch, me with my breaky, her looking at with her daddy who's all aglowin' with his now found multi-skills.

Except I look down to see I'm cuddling a carton of milk... so... if I'm cuddling the milk... what the hell did I put in the fridge? 

Ah crap, ciao theory, it's all true. I'd better go build a fire.