Language transmission

I read in the ARA the news about the birth of the actors' son Úrsula Corberó and Chino DarínThese are the kinds of news we always love. The baby's father explained why the birth took place in Barcelona: "The child is born where the mother wants, and I think it's good that it's that way. That she feels comfortable, that she feels she's in her homeland, and that her mother tongue is spoken, which I think is important."

When you have children, a part of you connects with the earth, with the cycles, with nature. Suddenly, aspects of life like food, culture, and care are no longer foreign to you. It's the moment in your life when the fragility of that defenseless little creature's head moves you deeply and makes you wish—with all sincerity—for eternal peace. The transmission of language is part of these three things, and it says a lot about the father Chino Darín will be and the partner he is. The child's mother surely touched her belly during her pregnancy and talked to it in her mother tongue, which is also her mother's native language. Perhaps during childbirth she swore in this language, and she will do so again in the days to come, complaining about the stitches. Chino Darín's comment wouldn't matter (except to help us understand that he understands that the mother is the one who should choose where she appears), if it weren't for the fact that sometimes this normality is forgotten here where we live. Chino Darín finds it normal, bless him, that Úrsula Corberó could speak her language during childbirth. I find that very humanist. Those who value words, the transmission of language, are also those who value oral communication, the tangible, not screens or robots. Everything is connected. The intelligence that ranchers and farmers have when carrying out their work is the same kind of intelligence I always find in linguists. And that I also find in the parents of that child, named Dante.