Matching

A few weeks ago, Mr. Nielson and I took Charlotte
 with us in the car to run errands.

Just as I suspected, Lottie zonked before we pulled out of our neighborhood.

About 45 minutes after buckling her in her seat, we arrived

 at Costco to buy some delicious peaches 

(and we probably bought some things we didn't need), 

but anyway, I opened the door and tickled her back.  

"We're here, honey; wake up." 

 Second later, her little brown eyes opened, and as

 I was unbuckling her belt, she looked down at her little arms. 

 The leather seats had been pressed into her sweaty body, making

 a pattern in her arm.

"Look, Mom! My arms look just like yours!".

She was right; we had matching arms. 

 She showed a few random patrons at Costco the shocking surprise.

  They didn't care- they were confused.

Charlotte was proud of me and for a second, 

I felt proud of me too.