If my house were presented before a judge and jury, we would be convicted of afternoon lows in a heartbeat.
I've been cleaning up the crime scene all morning.
Four juice boxes thrown on the blood sugar station, completely depleted of its juice. Crushed from the force of suction from a young boy's satiating eagerness.
Test strips littering the floor from harried blood sugar testing.
Tubes of yogurt and banana peels lay on the kitchen table like corpses...ready for their chalk outline.
Inside the refrigerator, pieces of hot dog torn off...incriminating evidence that Lawton received a treat for alerting on a low.
Four blood sugar monitors taking cover in different geography of the house...each with a history more incriminating than the next.
And the creme de la creme of evidence...the DNA within blood smears on the low food cupboard from hands that moments before had been poked by a lancet.
It's all there...and before the jury goes out I am confessing.
We are guilty.
My hands are in front of me, ready to be taken away...
To Hawaii maybe?