The mental math was brief, but calculated: I had a plate full of pork roast, green beans, and sweet potatoes.  I knew I had two units of insulin on board from my appetizer bolus and the Dexcom showed 116 mg/dl and a slightly southeasterly arrow, so I took the conservative route on this meal, opting to bolus just a unit for a meal I was pretty sure called for two units.

Satisfied with my decision (and ready to tuck in), I reached down to my hip, where the insulin pump was clipped neatly in my pocket.  I pressed a few buttons to program in the bolus.

My six year old niece looked down at my hands and the device I was holding, and her little blonde brow furrowed as she eased a forkful of mashed potatoes into her mouth.  

"What is that?"  The potatoes went all in, and she asked the rest of the question casually, with a mouthful of food and pointing at my pump with her empty fork. "Is that a time bomb?"

I started with the "hey, you know this is for auntie's diabetes medicine," but instead I just laughed and laughed. 

And then said, "Yes."