When Charlie and I arrived at the Walk to Cure Diabetes on Sunday it was a little chilly. Charlie had his sweatshirt zipped up high, covering his Charlie's Angels team T-shirt.

I unzipped my hoodie and urged Charlie to do the same.

"C'mon! You gotta wear that Charlie's Angels shirt with pride!"

Charlie shuffled beside me, his eyes pointed toward the pavement.

"I'm not proud to have diabetes."

I think I said something dumb in response like, "What do you mean?"

Of course I knew what he meant. He meant exactly what he said.

"Diabetes is stupid," he added. "I can't eat whatever I want whenever I want to."

I could have used the old "even if you didn't have diabetes, we wouldn't let you eat whatever you wanted to eat, whenever you wanted to" line, but that wouldn't be completely true. He was right. Diabetes is stupid.

So, as we approached the entrance to the walk and heard the booming beat of a song the DJ was blasting, one thing was very clear - Charlie wouldn't be the best choice for pre-walk team pep talk.

Despite the stupidity of diabetes, it was a great walk. We had about 30 friends and family walking with us on a beautiful autumn morning. I enjoy the walk a lot because it's a rare moment when we have all or most of the family and friends together in one spot. Everyone can catch up with each other. Though everyone is walking at a different pace and eventually we need to pull over when there's a low blood

sugar. The result is usually quick snippets and micro conversations - hopping from one person to the next. Sort of like speed dating without the implied romance.

In past walks I wondered where all the diabetics were. Obviously they were there, but I couldn't spot them with their well-concealed pumps and whatnot. This time I saw several diabetics on the side of the road, sitting on curbs or benches, testing their sugar.

And then there was Xander. Xander is a little guy I won't soon forget.

I was lagging in the back of the pack immersed in some of my speed dating, when my brother, about 50 yards ahead of me, came toward me with urgency, calling and waving for me to come.

A woman was with him and she explained to me that they left their pricker at home. I could sense a hint of anxiety behind her smile and laughter. It was just the day before that I was at Charlie's ice hockey practice and I realized I didn't have test strips.  I guess though, if there is ever a time to leave a pricker at home, this would be the time to do it; when surrounded by few hundred diabetics.

There is such a personal connection I feel to other parents of children with diabetes. I feel like if I was to place my hand on her forearm as you might see in a Harry Potter or some other supernatural type film, my brain would receive unfiltered flashing images of their lives - force-feeding juice boxes in the middle of the night and tantrums over site changes and praying down the highs and testing for ketones. I would see it all; All the horrible shit that this disease dishes out.

But Xander? Xander was all smiles under a mop of long bleached blonde hair. Even while I pricked his tiny pinky. Not even the slightest flinch. He just stared at me with these big beautiful blue eyes. I told him how brave he was. He just kept smiling.

"How often do we test your blood sugar?" his mom asked.

"Every day," Xander said in the sweetest little voice you can possibly imagine.

Damn you, diabetes!!! Charlie was right. It is stupid.

Rock on, Xander! You, my son and the millions of others living with type 1 diabetes are my heroes.