Saydee walked between Mom and Dad on a gravel path at sunset. Her sneakers crunched as she looked up.
She noticed her hands rested on Mom's waist instead of gripping Mom's knee. She took another step, her shadow stretching long.
Mom turned and caught her looking. She crouched down and held out both hands. Saydee stood tall and wrapped both her small arms around Mom's middle.
Dad laughed, his deep sound bouncing off the trees. He pulled Saydee into a bear hug that lifted her clean off the ground.
Dad set her down, but she didn't let go. She stepped back and really looked — her eyes met Mom's belt buckle, not her knees.
She bounced on her toes in the soft dirt, counting the pebbles she could see now that she was taller. 'I can see the whole field,' she said, pointing at the golden grass.
That evening, they stood in the kitchen and Saydee reached up to hug each of them at the waist.
Mom's hands rested on Saydee's shoulders. Dad's forehead bumped Saydee's when they squeezed together. She grinned, knowing she fits in a brand-new way.