Those explanations sounded reasonable.
Children did need structure.
They needed consistent mealtimes, appropriate boundaries, and opportunities to learn responsibility.
But I wasn't seeing the difference between teaching a child and frightening one.
Once, I came home and found my daughter sitting alone on the living room rug while the older children watched television.
I asked why she wasn't joining them.
My wife said she'd refused to clean up her toys.
I looked toward my daughter.
"Sweetheart, did you leave your toys out?"
She nodded.
I smiled gently.
"Then let's pick them up together."
My wife intervened.
"No. She needs to do it herself."
I hesitated.
I didn't want to undermine her in front of the children.
So I stepped back.
My daughter cleaned up the toys.
I thought the matter was finished.
Now, remembering the way she repeatedly glanced toward her stepmother while picking up those blocks, I recognized something I'd missed.
She wasn't learning responsibility.
She was trying not to make someone angry.
The food problems began gradually.
At least, that's what the recordings would later show.
In the beginning, my wife served my daughter smaller portions than the older children. That wasn't inherently unusual. A four-year-old didn't need the same amount of food as a ten-year-old, and children had different appetites.
But the camera revealed that portions weren't the central problem.
The problem was that my wife controlled whether my daughter was permitted to finish eating.
If she asked a question at the wrong moment, her food disappeared.
If she spilled something, the plate was taken away.
If she asked when I was coming home, my wife sometimes ended the meal immediately.
And afterward, she told me our daughter had already eaten.
The first recording I watched from the previous month showed a dinner very similar to the one I'd interrupted.
The two older children sat at the table eating chicken and vegetables.
My daughter was in her booster chair.
She reached toward a piece of bread.
My wife stopped her.
"Did I say you could have that?"
My daughter shook her head.
"Sorry."
Then she looked toward the clock.
"Is Daddy coming?"
My wife sighed.
"Your daddy is tired of hearing complaints."
The child looked confused.
"I wasn't complaining."
My wife lifted her plate.
"Then stop talking."
My daughter began crying.
My wife carried the food into the kitchen.
The recording ended shortly afterward.