Charlie sat on the bench in a somewhat meditative state. Even the blank expression on his face seemed by design to be a strategy in which to conserve energy. If he blinked his eyes less frequently and stayed perfectly still, perhaps his blood sugar would remain above 100.

"Charlie, you can skate a little bit before hockey starts," I said. "You’ve got about 10 minutes."

"Neh," Charlie said calmly and without emotion. "I really don’t want to go low this time."

Who can blame him after last week’s debacle.

He was 79 an hour earlier when I gave him a juice box. After a non-bolused granola bar, he was just 108 prior to taking the ice.

"Well," I said to Charlie. "It’s better than last week’s 400 and then 32."

"Yeah," he chuckled, brandishing one of my favorite smiles in Charlie’s repertoire.

There’s no doubt the 32 was still weighing heavy on my mind as the big scoreboard clock on the wall clicked one minute closer to hockey time. Logically, I thought the 18-carb granola bar without bolus still hadn’t taken full effect yet, but I also knew that there was no guarantee that things occur as they should. Uncomfortable with a mere 108 heading out into hockey boot camp, I dumped half a bag of Teddy Grahams through the metal hockey helmet cage and down Charlie’s gullet. It was a desperate act. Charlie snapped his tongue out like a lizard to catch the small crackers and then jumped out onto the ice with a full head of steam.

Me tossing little bits of crunchy carbs through a cage and into his mouth was like some sort of ridiculous carnival game. Half of them fell on the ground.

From an outsider’s perspective, it might seem crazy the steps we need to take in order for our kid to play a little hockey.

I tapped the top of Charlie’s helmet when he came off the ice after a great practice and then pulled it from his sweaty head. Steam rose from his body as we peeled off his equipment. The two of us sat in front of a giant fireplace eating hotdogs and hot chocolate, Charlie sporting a wide smile and a blood sugar of 140.

"Mmm," he said. "This is the best hotdog!"

Crazy? Maybe.

Today, I call it freakin' awesome!