December 25th
On Christmas morning I woke up bright and early. Leo and I had spent the night in a spare room whilst Cato slept in ours so when he started screaming at 6 am I had to step out into the cold hallway.
"Sssh, Cato," I hushed. "Daddy is still asleep."
I spent the next fifteen minutes feeding him before he fell back to sleep and I lay him back in his crib.
Afterwards, I still hadn't heard a sound from Leo, who, since Cato had been born and the sleepless nights begun, no longer naturally woke at stupid O'clock in the morning. I made my way downstairs with the plan to make him breakfast and a caffeinated coffee to bring up to him in bed.
"You smell... fresh..." I heard a voice say as I walked into the kitchen.
"Jesus shit!" I cursed as the life vacated my body.
I turned to face the uninvited intruder. Luciano.
"That's right. Happy birthday Jesus Christ," he said with a plastic smile, "god bless and shit."