There I was, there I was.. working diligently on a sunny Sunday afternoon. A few minutes earlier, I had helped an adorable four year old who calls himself “Santa” and his mother get a couple pairs of ice skates to take a spin on our synthetic ice skating rink. As I monitored the rink (no, this isn’t the core of my full time job, just one of the many random things/programs I run), I noticed Santa skate clumsily by me. As he passed, his neck craned. He wouldn’t stop looking at my pants. Then I realized it wasn’t my pants that intrigued him, it was my insulin pump.
I giggled to myself. I’ve read blogs and talked to diabetic mommies that proclaim their children are always after their pumps like they’re some magical toy. Santa probably hasn’t seen a pump before. That’s when I heard him say, “Mama! She has a pump!”
And they continued to skate. And I got REALLY excited, like I do when I meet other diabetics. And then I got really sad, because I hoped Santa didn’t know what a pump was because he had to tote one around on his tiny little body.
They made another circle around the ice, and Santa addressed me directly. “You have diaBEEtees, just like my Mama!” he exclaimed. “Yes sir, I do,” I told him. His Mama grinned at me, and patted the outline of her pump under her dress.