It's not like we're pressuring Charlie to begin testing himself. Whenever he is ready to take on that responsibility is fine with us.  But it honestly seems like it's never going to happen. He has no desire to take the reins. I remember feeling the same way when we went through potty training with him. It took forever.

I figured he'd be 18 years old, on his back in the living room – legs up in the air - holding moist baby wipes and rash ointment while a girl named Amanda waited in the dining room dressed in cap and gown, flicking cigarette ash into a paper cup. "Mom! C'mon! Are you gonna change my diaper or what!!! We're gonna miss graduation!"

The thing that I wonder about is how it's all going to play out when he finally does decide he wants to start testing himself. The way it is now, he wants us to test him all the time. Not because he's so concerned about being in perfect range all the time. It's all about food. He wants to eat all the time and he associates testing his blood sugar with eating. And why wouldn't he? It's a function we've performed prior to every meal since he was a baby.

I just know it. He's going to keep testing himself and testing himself and testing himself until his number is good enough for a snack. He'll be out of control. He's going to become a testaholic. He'll require some sort of intervention. We're going to have to hide the meter. But he'll get more meters. I know he will. He'll find a way. He'll hide them inside of shoes and under his mattress; inside hard-cover books with secret compartments and along the walls of the toilet tank. Our home will be littered with test strips.

He'll have to go to testaholics anonymous.

"Hi, I'm Charlie and I test myself 50 times a day."

"Hi, Charlie!"