An unusual thing happened to me a few years ago. I spoke casually with a woman who served tables at a restaurant I frequented. We knew each other by first name only, but usually chatted for a few minutes each time I dined there.
One day, she asked me, “Do you have a son about eight years old?”
'What has he done?' I thought. I nodded yes.
She pressed on. “Does he play soccer?”
When I said that he did, she asked if he played in a game the previous week at a particular field. Again, I answered, “Yes.”
“I thought so,” she smiled. “I saw him and thought he must be your son.”