For years I have made the same salad dressing. I know-strange-but true. It's my Grandmother's recipe and there is never a time that I don't think of her and my parents when I make it. Really, even more strange. Clearly, salad has always been a big part of family dinners. When my mother taught me how to make it, and gave me her old wooden salad bowl it was like I had inherited family jewelery. I feel pretty fortunate to be happy about that bowl, mainly because there are no other family heirlooms headed my way.
Toddy has only commented like 1 million times how we only eat one salad. I am still trying to decide why he cares because he never eats it, but I thought I might be able to change it a little for the sake of every one's taste buds.
Todd(gasp) and the boys love this dressing. I think because it has mustard in it, and no matter how they get em...boys like condiments.
Shake together 1/4 cup fresh apple cider, 3 Tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil, 1 tablespoon cider vinegar, 1 tablespoon Dijon mustard, 1 finely chopped small shallot, 1/2 teaspoon coarse salt, and 1/4 teaspoon freshly ground pepper.
So this is Martha's fussy dressing, but I dumb it down because fussy means I will forget ingredients at the grocery store. I don't use shallots, I think onion would work just fine and I don't even do that. Also, if I don't have apple cider(like never), I just add more olive oil and cider vinegar than the recipe calls for. It's yummy and kid approved. Enjoy!
So, on to why I am crazy
Do you think these people cooperate with me? What about that one in the middle...what you think he's up to on most afternoons? I'll tell you-no good. Yep, that one in the middle gives me a hard time and I've come to understand it's his very most favorite past time and has no plans to give it up. And to make matters worse, he won't let me hold his hand in public any more and once in a while he spits. Like onto the ground. For no apparent reason. Like a man. I swallow my spit. I have never thought about shooting it out of my mouth and onto the ground. Never.
See the one in his pajamas. He changes his clothes three times a day for fun. I wondered why my laundry had gotten out of control. He also can't keep his hands off his little brother, even when I threaten his life, it's like he knows I have no intention on killing him. He will only talk about two things. What he wants for his birthday-the one that's a mere 5 months away and what he wants to be for Halloween. That's it. This wouldn't be so bad if he didn't talk that much, but this child never stops moving his lips.
And that baby. He'll be the end of me for sure. Sometimes he wipes his boogery nose on me before I can get him a tissue, then he laughs. The other day he threw a toy at me...from the back of the mini van while I was driving. He is an expert ninja turtle already, he has recently found out that it's fun to bite, and he thinks I enjoy waking up three times a night to place a binky into his mouth. He likes to hang from the hem of my shirts, thinks cookies should be served all day long, and won't even drive the grocery car long enough for me to get bread.
In a couple weeks my worst nightmare is coming true. Summer vacation.
*After Holden said I could no longer hold his hand he also told me it didn't mean he doesn't love me any more. I felt much better.