Phew! Things on this blog started off kinda heavy -- children are starving, my sister is sick, beans are good for you! Here's a less serious post, just for kicks.
Dear Ranch Dressing:
How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight...
I love thee to the level of everyday's
Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light...
I love thee with a passion put to use
In my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith...
I love thee with the breath,
Smiles, tears, of all my life!
Poor Elizabeth Barrett Browning. She is probably rolling over, shocked and appalled, not only that I abridged her beautiful timeless words, but that I am using them to talk about a processed concoction of mayonnaise, buttermilk and spices. I, however, am not ashamed.
My son is 2 1/2 and from the moment he was born he has never stopped moving. Or eating. He loves a good hot dog, will devour pasta, and can eat an apple faster than you can say Elizabeth Barrett Browning. Like a lot of other kids, though, he is picky about vegetables. Enter Ranch Dressing. Now, the kid will eat anything: carrots, celery, cucumbers, green beans, broccoli, and yes, folks, even asparagus!
And for this reason, Ranch Dressing, I love you! I am willing to overlook your high fat content, your MSG, and your lack of nutritional density. I don't care that my son says you are the favorite part of his meal. I accept that you are the means to my desired end, and am thankful that your presence makes it so simple to get him to eat vegetables. I don't have to buy a celebrity cookbook to bake veggies into brownies because my trickery is as quick as a squeeze. He will taste the vegetables, albeit through a creamy tangy veil, and I hope eventually learn to like them.
As a mom, I learned quickly to pick my battles, and if loosing to ranch dressing helps me win the vegetable war, I'm ok with that.