Ah, family dinners. That magical time of day when everyone was supposed to gather around the table, hold hands, and share stories while eating a well-balanced, home-cooked meal.

Yeah… that never happened.

When my kids were little, I tried. Really, I did. I dreamt of Norman Rockwell moments. But instead, dinner became a nightly episode of “Who Hates What?”

One kid didn’t like vegetables. Another refused to eat meat. At one point, the boys would only eat broccoli and cauliflower if they were doused in ketchup, which is a crime against both vegetables and condiments. If I served fish, someone cried. If I made meatloaf, someone gagged. Chicken nuggets were the only universally accepted food group.