The Dexcom buzzed at 4 a.m. Low. (!!!) A fingerstick confirmed it: 60.
Still mostly asleep, I considered my usual routine of going down the hall to the kitchen, finding a sippy cup, measuring 4 ounces of orange juice, finding a straw and bringing it back to the sleepy child.
As I put the meter down, my hand grazed the junior-juice box it shares its case with. I picked it up, stuck the straw in, and roused the low person. I was back in bed in under 3 minutes.
What have we been thinking?
When she was littler, it took less than 4 ounces of juice to treat a low. So we reserved juice boxes for their convenience to carry away from home, but usually ended up throwing away half or a quarter of every one. Knowing how many ounces of a juice box had been consumed was impossible when awake in the daylight, let alone at 2 a.m. in a dark bedroom. But fast forward a few years and now, for most overnight lows, one juice box is just enough.
When she treats lows at home, during regular awake hours, she still goes for juice from a cup. Orange juice and apple cider are rare treats. Despite the circumstances, she's happy to enjoy them. Yet at 4 a.m., she's not savoring the flavor. She wants to snuggle back under the covers.
So it seems the juice box is the way to go at night. It requires no rummaging in the kitchen. It requires no lights. It's literally right at hand every time we check her blood sugar.
I wasn't sure if she'd noticed, but she did. "I was trying to figure out why my juice was so warm last night- but I noticed you used the box from the meter case."
"Yeah- I decided it was easier than coming out to the kitchen."
"I liked it. I can drink it faster when it's warm."
And everybody lived happily ever after.