Family dinner without the 5:30 PM standoff

It is 5:32 on a Tuesday. The chicken is in the pan and your six-year-old is standing in the doorway making the face. The chicken is good. The chicken is, frankly, excellent. The chicken is not going to be eaten.

If you have a kid, you know this scene. You wanted family dinner. You got a standoff over a perfectly nice piece of meat. By 5:45 you are reaching for the freezer nuggets, hating yourself a little, and silently promising tomorrow will be different.

Sunday Reset Plan is built around the assumption that you have already been here. We do not pretend your child will suddenly love roasted asparagus. We plan around what they will actually eat.

We ask once. We remember forever.

When you sign up, the chat asks who is in your house. The moment you mention a kid, it follows up with the question that matters: what does your child actually eat? Plain pasta with butter. Apple slices. Cheese cubes. Goldfish crackers. The boring, repeatable, no-negotiation foods.

You answer once. We remember. Every plan from then on is built around those answers.

You pick the strategy

Every family runs dinners a little differently, so you pick how you want yours to work:

• Same meal for everyone — your kid eats what you eat. Works great for adventurous eaters or older kids.
• Adult meal plus a kid side (most popular) — you cook one dinner, and the recipe instructions include a built-in side for your child. One pan. One shopping list. Nobody negotiating at the stove.
• Separate kid meal — the planner writes a distinct dinner for your child. Rare, but available when you need it.

You can change this any time. The very next plan reflects it.

Built-in safety net

Even with all that, models occasionally drop the ball. A dinner ships without the kid side note. A meal forgets to portion in your kid. So we built a check that runs on every plan before it goes out: every child, every day, every meal slot has to be accounted for. If anything is missing, the plan stops and we either fix it or flag it for review.

You should not be the quality-control layer for your own meal planner. We are.

What this feels like by week three

By the third week, the planner has a clear picture: your kid eats plain pasta, cucumber slices, and apple wedges. Every dinner that needs a side now has those built in. You stop reading the kid-side line because you already know it is there. The fridge magnet calendar makes Tuesday's dinner public knowledge. The negotiation is gone.

That is the entire promise. Not "your kid will eat everything." Just: family dinner stops being a fight.

Ready to try?

Sign up free for fourteen days. Tell us about your kid once. Watch how different planning feels when nobody is hoping the six-year-old discovers asparagus by Tuesday.