“Mom, is your blood sugar low?”

I checked my pump and saw the Dexcom low alarm flagging me at 64 mg/dL and dropping.  “Yeah, I am.”

“But we just had breakfast?”  My daughter knows that I take insulin for the food I eat, and couldn’t reconcile why I’d be low after breakfast.

“We did, but I forgot to take into account that I’d be sharing my toast with the little Guy.  I missed about 10 carbs that I took insulin for.”

I fumbled in my purse for some glucose tabs, popping two of those dusty critters into my mouth as I eyeballed the CGM graph again.  Doing some quick guesstimate math, I grabbed one more tab.

“Mom, we should have a restaurant just for people with diabetes,” Birdy said.

“Oh yeah?  What would it look like?”

She set up a sugar packet onto the lip of the spoon on the table and readied her hand to smack down the handle side.  “It would have juice that was available for free at the beginning of the meal, just in case someone took their insulin too soon before ordering.  And the whole menu would have all the carb numbers on it – even by the sauces!”

She deftly smashed the handle of the spoon, sending the sugar packing arcing into the air.

“And with the check, instead of little mints, we’d get glucose tabs.  Just in case for things like today.”

“That sounds awesome.  What would we call it?”

She turned the spoon towards me.  “Mom.  We’d call it a restaurant.”