Lows

"Lows suck" -- Sain

In the middle of Ikea, on the day after Thanksgiving an alarm sounded.

The alarm wasn't loud and no one else heard it. No one else stopped. But my heart stopped. Thank God for CGMs.

I pulled Sain (truthfully a shell of Sain -- a vacant, quiet, pale shell of my vibrant 9 year old) to the side. She grabbed a stuff kitty to comfort her and I grabbed her meter.

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I kick myself for grabbing only her meter from the car and not the overly packed kit but I thank God when I look up and see we are right next to the cafe. I cut in line, grab a kids cup, throw $2 at the cashier and rush to the fountain drinks.

I didn't yell at the woman taking her time getting Coke -- I just shove my cup under the Sprite. "It's not a matter of life and death if you get your Sprite you know." I say nothing because getting to Sain was far more important than a confrontation but I make a mental note to myself never to use that phrase again.

Sain drinks.

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I refill.

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I refill, again.

Sain feels sick. She's not used to sugared soda so we sit and wait for the sugars to kick in. (She still has the kitty in her hand.)

20 minutes pass and she continues to sip her Sprite.

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We finish our shopping (which included her new kitty she fittingly named "Hypo") and head home.

On the way home I asked Sain what lows are like. "Lows suck," she said. Then she hugged Hypo and cried.