Through my window, I see mothers who are desperate about their children, driving cars to the swimming club before the airport or taking a stroll toward the beach. I sometimes see fathers as well, but fathers do not seem to care or, at least, they don't lose it so easily. They make me think how different women and men are in all senses, specially where kids are concerned. Georgia and me, we used to scorn families who were too soft and couldn't keep their little ones under control in places such as bank offices and particularly, in restaurants. It was not difficult to find us sitting at our table at night, a noisy brat running around pulling at chairs, skirts, pants; we would shoot a disdainful look at the beast and then scan the room for those guilty of having brought them to this world without the slightest notion of appropriateness. We did get angry, almost furious. The scene could very well ruin our meal. Georgia shook her head and sighed: "why cannot they be kept in their chairs?" or also "a kick in the butt is what they need". We thought all of them incapable. Not only those near us, but parents in general, people who had decided to have offspring. But then again, we also looked down on couples who sat together and never exchanged a single word. You know who I mean. He looks at his cell phone, probably checking the results of his latest baseball game while she glimpses around, a sad atmosphere hanging about her as if she were wondering wherever they went amiss.