Out of the mouths of babes
So I'm driving with my three-year-old daughter this evening. We're running errands: movies for movie night, milk for breakfast, dinner for movie night. We didn't leave the house until 6:15, but I had eaten absolutely horribly all day and knew my sugar was probably still high enough to get me through until a later-than-normal dinner. Actually, I didn't really think too much about my sugar and having a snack.
We browse the movie store and nothing sounds good, but I get something anyway so hubby and I have something to watch. As we're standing in line I feel a little shaky, but don't think much of it because I've been doing that lately and not really been low. It does occur to me, though, that I could be going low. I still think I can make it home, though. So we head off to the grocery store where I pick up some fudge, which I incidentally put back last time in an attempt to be good, but figured that tonight since I had eaten out at lunch and was eating out at dinner that why not go ahead and continue the trend with some fudge. See my logic?
So, I'm writing the check for three gallons of milk (which the four of us will go through in about three or four days), some cheap bourbon, two two liters of Dr. Pepper and the infamous fudge when I realize it's a little too hard to control the pen. I pay more attention to my hands, my legs, my eyes, my head...I'm definitely shaking. It's getting harder to keep myself from telling my daughter to just put a sock in it as she continually asks why she can't have any fudget yet. OK, I'm definitely low. And actually, what probably happened is that I crashed after devouring almost an entire 1/2 pound Hershey bar this afternoon in addition to the cheeseburger and tater tots for lunch. Ok, and there was a handful of M&Ms thrown in there somewhere, too.
We make it out to the car and after I strap the little one in, I grab a piece of the fudge while making a running commentary to myself partly to keep myself aware of what's going on and partly to just be talking to my daughter. So, when I say that I'm having a piece of fudge, she of course wants to know why she can't have any right now even though I've told her a thousand times that she can have some after dinner.
me: I'm going to grab a piece of chocolate so that I don't pass out (insert slightly sarcastic voice here).
her: Why? (in that you're-so-stupid kind of voice)
me: Because my blood sugar's low.
her: Oh. My blood sugar's low, too.
Ah, the mind of a three year old. Anything for some chocolate. She's a woman after my own heart. I love you, sweetie!