There are these two little boys who come to my church, one three and one six, both of whom are fascinated with watching me check my sugar. The three-year-old will come up to me and say, “Do this!” He’ll then use one index finger to poke the side of his other index finger, like he’s poking his finger with a lancet.
“Do you want to watch me check my sugar?” I’ll ask.
So I’ll take out my meter case and he and his brother will hover around me as I explain each step.
“Ok, now I’m going to poke my finger.”
“Does it hurt?” “Do you need a bandaid?”
“No, it doesn’t hurt at all,” I say and smile. “Now I’m going to put the blood on the strip.”
The number flashes on the screen and I explain to them that the number is in range or it’s a little high or a little low and the boys nod knowingly and say “yeah,” as if they know what the numbers mean.
“You should get her to poke your finger next!” said their dad one day.
“No!!!” they squealed, running away giggling.