Ours is called gossip family, a channel as intimate as it is hyperactive, capable of overflowing with love on a Sunday evening. Like so many families, there we pour out our longings to explain to each other how life is going, in addition to sharing some sparks of surprise.
The matriarch, who sends a “good morning” every morning in an act of mindfulness, sends us private messages when we forget to respond to our siblings to admire the graces of the little ones.
This week he forwarded us a TikTok of a Korean boy who comes home with his school bag, and as soon as he gets in, he takes off his shoes, disinfects his shoes, does his homework and prepares dinner with kitchen appliances -tech that look like toys and cook sausages for him, even colorful cookies.
The boy eats the four courses in a solitude that is as orderly as it is overwhelming, until the phone rings and the first human sound is made. It is the voice of his mother, who only needs a few seconds to check that everything is in order. Without music or screens, the creature, which will wash everything it has soiled, take a shower and open a book half a minute before turning off the light, draws a landscape so orderly and aseptic that it hurts.
"South Korea has the highest rate of child suicide," says one of my brothers. “What a ruckus you make; if your children did half of this, you would be more rested!”, replies the mother. I am looking for figures to corroborate the Edu statement, and yes, suicide is the leading cause of death for children there. They are trained to alienating perfection, based on hardness and slipper, to make them self-sufficient so that they look like little robots. Until they disconnect. The WHO has just broken the silence: "Every 11 minutes a child commits suicide in the world". We'd rather have our dishes broken, we assure you. Also the mother, who now sends us a video with a ration of tickling the feet.