Flatter me, and you just might get hugged

At the playground, I met a woman with a 12-month-old boy who is expecting. We ended up talking about ultrasounds and to-amnio-or-not-to-amnio, which I'm familiar with because I had Fly past the magical age of 35.

So she asks the inevitable: "How old are you?"

"Mumble mumble," I said.

"Oh, I'm a year older than that!" she said. "I thought you were in your late 20s!"

"Bless you!" I said.

And even though she was a complete stranger, I hugged her.