At some point, I think it is crucial that we recognize the limits of our parenting, embrace them, and act accordingly.
One way to do this: by opening the refrigerator, observing the vast quantity of potential dinner ingredients therein...and then shutting the door, turning on the oven, and making pizza (and calling the tomato sauce on top of it a vegetable because CLEARLY it is, and also everybody loves pizza and so nobody fights about what’s for dinner and for a single glorious moment, life is calm).
(Also please go ahead and serve that pizza on paper plates because kids do not appreciate pretty dishes and also do not wash them unless they are of sink-reaching height and more amenable to the concept of chores than oh, say, my children.)