Dear Diary,
Michael is home. Thank God, thank Our Lady of Slatterns, no thanks to Mr. or Mrs. Corinthos.
When I came home, he was sitting on the couch with Mrs. Corinthos, who was apparently trying to explain her husband's line of work to my poor son.
"Well you see," she frowned, struggling with her words. "It's like this. Sonny Corinthos is my husband! We're family! No wait," she paused, puzzled. "What were we talking about?"
"Why does Mumble Daddy hurt people?" prompted Michael. "Drunk Daddy says he makes people die. Does he?"
"Sonny is a very powerful man. Not very tall, but powerful and strong and oh, so virile--" At this she trailed off, a glazed look in her eye.
I stepped in. "Michael, Mr. Corinthos has a dangerous job."
"Like a policeman?" asked Michael. "They have sticks to hit with!"
"What? No!" snapped Mrs. Corinthos. "Policemen help people. Sonny hurts people." She smirked at me. "Is your kid ever stupid!"
At this Mr. Corinthos walked in, so Michael repeated his question about whether Mr. Corinthos makes people die.
Mr. Corinthos muttered something incomprehensible about pride, love, and Michael staying the hell out of his business, "if you know what's good for you."
"But Mumble Daddy," said Michael, "Drunk Daddy says he's my real daddy. Why did he say that?"
"All he did was bang Carly," said Mr. Corinthos, "and what's so special about that? I mean really, who hasn't? Now me," he thumped his chest with pride, "I hung your biological father from a meathook and threatened to kill him. If that's not love, I don't know what is."
Finally they allowed me to take Michael upstairs. He sobbed in my arms all night, while I soothed him as best I could. "Mijo, don't ever scare me like that again." "Okay Mommy," he cried. "It was so awful! Mumble Daddy, Stare Daddy and Drunk Daddy all there at once, all yelling! Too many daddies!" Thank goodness Dr. Jones, aka Recurring Character Daddy, hadn't been there. It might have been more than he could bear.