The phone rang yesterday morning and I shook The Mr. almost violently to make him wake up and answer so the rings wouldn't wake the kids. It was 6:30 a.m. Something must be wrong, I was thinking, for us to get a call this early.

The Mr. answered as if he hadn't just been sucking the roof tiles off. The conversation was odd and Detective Kowalski couldn't figure out who was on the phone.

Then I started hearing familiar instructions -- put the strip in the machine first... you have to wait until it's done with the numbers then you can let it suck the blood up... no, prick your finger first.

That's when I realized The Mr. was talking to The Dad. And Oh! he was taking a fasting sugar. So good for him, I thought with a smile. (The Dad has been told that he's borderline diabetic. I gave him one of my One Touch Ultra Minis so he can monitor his sugar on occasion.) I hoped all of my meter instruction and general diabetes information had been well absorbed.

"You bet," The Mr. said. "Alright, buh bye."

What, wait. Neither needed to confer with me? I must have taught them both well.