If Dad and I were laughing about something at dinner, Carol would interrupt with, “Don’t you have homework to do, Jocelyn? We can’t let your grades slip just because you’re having fun.”

Dad would look confused. “Carol, she’s just being a kid.”

“I know, honey. But she needs structure. Boundaries. I’m just looking out for her future.”

The worst part was how she’d act when Dad wasn’t around. Gone was the sweet voice and caring smile. Instead, she’d roll her eyes when I talked and sigh loudly whenever I asked for anything.

“Your father spoiled you,” she told me one afternoon when I asked if I could have a friend over. “You think everything revolves around you.”