Charlie's ice hockey session ended yesterday. After a rocky start – which I wrote about recently – I must say; blood sugars have worked out beautifully.

Without too much trial and error, we found a routine that worked and stuck with it for the remaining four weeks of the hockey program.

I tested him just before he took the ice, unplugged him and gave him a 20-carb banana (with no bolus) to cover the intense workout. Unsure how it would work out in the beginning, careful disconnection of his pump felt like an attempt to dismantle a bomb. "Work damn you! Work!"

We had a couple bumps in the road, but I stuck with the general approach. I didn't panic when a blood sugar of 300 tested my nerve as my trigger finger flirted with an unnecessary correction. It reeked of an adrenalin high, so I held my ground. 30 minutes later he was in range.

For four straight weeks, following this plan, he came off the ice, gave me the finger and clocked in no lower than 91 and no higher than 132. Freakin' fantastic! Bananas rule!

There's no feeling quite like it when you get it right and you see those dreamy numbers staring up at you like a furry, little puppy that just wants your love. Knowing that he was feeling healthy and strong while he was out there gives me a joy that is hard to express.

The age-old story of a father rejoicing over his son's blood. You hear about it all the time.

Charlie scored two goals yesterday. We erupted from the bleachers each time. He worked his little D-rump off out there and I couldn't be more proud. The season is over and I'm happy to say that Susanne and I never had to Tarzan it onto the ice to Charlie's rescue.

On to Spring. On to baseball.