The question of dinner

I was just scrolling, my thumb moving on its own, trying to outrun the thought of what to make for dinner. The fridge was a mystery, and everyone was in their own little world. It was one of those evenings where even deciding felt like a chore.

The weight of a simple choice

I could feel the familiar tension building. The 'what do you want?' 'I don't know, what do you want?' loop was about to start. It wasn't about the food, really. It was about the mental energy of being the decider, again.My brain felt like a browser with too many tabs open. Pasta? We had that yesterday. Something with chicken? Did we thaw any? It was easier to just keep scrolling.

A silly little solution

So I made a wheel. Not a grand plan, just a quick list of the usual suspects we all eat. Nothing fancy, nothing that requires a special trip to the store. Just the regular rotation of meals that already live in our kitchen.I called everyone over. There was a bit of eye-rolling, a quiet laugh. But then there was a pause, a collective letting go. The responsibility wasn't mine alone anymore. It was the wheel's.

The spin itself

My youngest wanted to do the honors. They gave it a firm flick, and we all watched it go around, a little circle deciding our evening.

What landed

Breakfast for dinner. Pancakes. A unanimous, quiet cheer went up. It was so obvious, but we needed the wheel to see it.

The air after the decision

The weirdest thing happened. Once the wheel decided, the mood lifted. The question was gone. We just started moving, getting out the bowl and the mix, without another word about it.It wasn't about the wheel being right. It was about it being final. The mental space that was clogged with 'maybe this, maybe that' suddenly cleared. I could just crack the eggs.