One of the most surprising things that has happened to us as a family is that our son Artur was a choirboy at Montserrat. This is something that wasn't in our plans at all. When he was eight years old, one day he told us he wanted to be a choirboy. The first thing we thought was that some of his grandparents, all very devoted to La Moreneta, had filled his head. But no. No? How was it, then?

The end of the school year is approaching, and with it, a scene that repeats in many homes with school-aged children: they arrive with various – if not many – crafts they've made at school, in after-school activities... And the questions return: what should we do with all this? Do we keep it all? Do we throw it all away? Do we leave it at home and gradually discard it after a few days without the children noticing?

It can be love, protection, and welcome; but it doesn't give it. It can be care, attention, and dedication; but it is absent. Not having her because she has died is an intense and painful absence; knowing she is here and realizing she is far away is also grief. The figure of the mother when she does not offer shelter can cause a void in the child, which will be realized over the years. Dysfunctions that can manifest in very diverse ways, such as insecurities and emotional friction: by looking at them, fortunately, they can be transformed.

It was at Sants station, contemplating with delight a very young father with a backward baseball cap and sagging pants who was spasmodically moving his baby's stroller. A baby, needless to say, that came as a surprise, not being "planned." At first, I thought the father was traveling alone with the child, but soon a girl, also very young, appeared, sipping a soda. "I come from Accessorize", she said. And immediately, to the baby: "I've brought you a little something". She gave him a lollipop, without opening it.

Generosity is not born out of pressure, but out of respect for children's times and needs, and out of support that sets limits with empathy and without imposition.“You must share” is one of the most repeated phrases in parks, schools, and family gatherings. It is said with good intentions, almost as an automatic response, as if it were an unquestionable rule of coexistence. But what if this ingrained demand were interfering with a much deeper learning? What if, instead of educating in generosity, we were promoting responses based on pressure, obligation, or even fear of conflict? Often behind this imperative lies the adult need to resolve situations quickly, to avoid tears or tensions, or even to look good rather than to accompany what is truly a learning process. We turn “sharing” into an immediate duty, with no room to understand what the child is feeling or what they need. And in this apparently harmless gesture, we may be overlooking a key opportunity: to help them build, at their own pace, an authentic understanding of what it means to give, to wait, and to consider others.Sharing is not a simple or spontaneous gesture, no matter how often we take it for granted. It is a complex skill that is built up little by little and involves a whole series of internal learning processes: recognizing that others also have desires and needs, understanding that giving something up does not equate to losing it forever, learning to wait without anxiety, reading the emotions of others, and, above all, feeling that what is one's own is protected. Without this foundation of security, genuine generosity can hardly emerge.

We decided to have a creature without thinking too much about it. And thank goodness, because I tend to overthink things. We were excited and we knew it would never be the perfect time. I didn't even consider the arguments against it. I had no idea where I was getting myself into and the journey has been amazing.Six months after the birth, we were confined.

In Memuro, a small town on the island of Hokkaido, there are Sunday nights when a cafe specializing in French toast relights its lamps when the city is already asleep. Inside, there are no customers looking for a last coffee before going home, but rather mothers in pajamas with crying babies. Some sit in silence while a volunteer takes the child in her arms for a few minutes. Others simply rest lying on mats after hours of sleeplessness. The place reopens at nine in the evening and does not close until six in the morning. It is one of the new yonakigoya, literally houses for night crying.

Watching a child is hypnotic. You look at them closely and often see things in them that you recognize yourself in. And when you see something you don't recognize, you marvel, thinking where they must have gotten it from. One day, your young son told you: "Death has entered me and I don't know what's wrong with me, but today it's not leaving me."

Asking for forgiveness is a gesture that dignifies the one who does it, comforts the one who receives it, and opens the door to restoring damaged bonds. Whoever takes the step learns to empathize with those who have suffered the consequences of their wrongdoing. Afterwards, the relationship between the two will benefit. However, not everything is immediate. Accepting it also costs. Emotions disorient, time is needed, and it is not enough to say it from emptiness. Some refuse to ask for forgiveness because they associate it with the moral repentance of some religions; but, far from it, forgiveness is in tune with essential human values and the idea of virtue. Children and young people, obviously, are not excluded from being able to experience it. All that is needed is good accompaniment.

We have become extraordinarily skilled at choosing, practically in everything. We choose the best school, the best extracurricular activity, the most ergonomic backpack, the BPA-free lunchbox, and the flat-soled sneakers. We choose sugar-free, we choose to restrict mobile phones, we choose respectful clothing as if clothing could behave disrespectfully, and we choose toys with a Montessori label.

This very day, in a second, Guillem has disappeared. What are you saying!

A former colleague told me not long ago that she was surprised when she heard I had a daughter because she'd never seen me as "a reproductive man." I laughed. It didn't seem like an insult, but rather a description. And, in fact, that possibility had always been there. The idea of ​​having children amused me, but until recently it was an abstract and distant concept.

Having children brought back unresolved wounds from our own childhood. This allowed me to reconnect with the child I once was, reclaim her, and learn to nurture her. I also had the opportunity to understand my own parents. Motherhood places us all in a vulnerable position, but at the same time, it bestows upon us a wisdom that is difficult to find elsewhere. Raising children confronts us with our own shortcomings. During my son's early years, I recovered many memories of when I was a child caring for a younger sibling.

Family is the most important thing we have. Especially our immediate family, the people you live with and are closest to. The unconditional support. Wife, parents, siblings... grandparents.

The universal child benefit has returned to the center of public debate. The discussion has focused primarily on its cost and budgetary viability. But while we look at the numbers, one fact remains constant: in Catalonia, more than one in three children and adolescents live at risk of poverty or social exclusion. Given this, perhaps the question is not only whether or not a new benefit is necessary, but also what model of public support for raising children we have, and who it serves.

Before becoming a mother, I had very firm convictions about who I was and what my path would be. I didn't imagine the extent to which motherhood transforms you completely, the extent to which I myself would become a different person. I thought it would be harder for me to stop prioritizing myself, and that I would sometimes experience it with unease or as a loss.

When my children were little and I took them to play in the park, I was always surprised to find the same scene: mothers who would get right into the sandbox with their offspring, taking up a huge amount of the little space the children had to roam in the middle of the city; mothers who would climb to the top of the slides, go down themselves to accompany that budding person who now must have serious problems managing life's normal frustrations. So many theories about parenting, so much information, and so much effort to do what we parents of today shouldn't have to do: rob our children of the ability to become resilient by gradually facing difficulties, systematically depriving them of the sense of power that comes from solving problems on their own.

Pregnancy is a very important stage in a woman's life. Many changes occur on different levels—physical, emotional, social, etc.—and, especially, self-care becomes crucial. Some aspects of this attention to personal well-being are within the control of the pregnant woman and her immediate environment, but others, in many cases, are beyond their reach. This is the case with the effects of climate change and pollution, especially relevant in urban contexts, which can affect pregnancy and early childhood, and which are of increasing concern to these groups.

We spent four years with the kids living in Brooklyn, the neighborhood of my childhood. My children went to my elementary school, and Judith even did a year of my school there. middle schoolNow I think they understand me better as a person and know more about what it means to be American, although I wouldn't say New York is entirely typical of the country in general. We've traveled the world and now we're back living in the Raval neighborhood of Barcelona.

I'm Clot's daughter, and we had a cat at home. At night I'd hear him running around the apartment, and when we got up, we'd often find a dead cockroach on the bath mat. He was the one who hunted them and left us these little "gifts." It made me very anxious.