As I mind my own business walking around the local supermarket someone I've never met starts a conversation.
"You don't remember me, do you?"
I get nervous when I hear things like that. She'd walked past me down one of the aisles a few minutes earlier, and gave me a funny look that I just shrugged off. Her daughter, probably three-years-old, was sat in the half-trolley, half-car, trying to grab anything off the shelves that took her fancy. I recognised the constant struggle with a toddler, and was pleased that I no longer have to deal with it. Having said that, bigger kids, sometimes bigger problems.
"Sorry, I don't remember."
"Well, do you remember my daughter?"
"Also not. I'm sorry. " I'd put the idea that she could have been a patient out my head, as I live and shop some distance from where I work.
"Well, really, you should remember her more than me, as you met her first!"
"Well," she said, clearly enjoying the exchange as much as I was confused by it, "this is Aleesha, and you and your colleague brought her into the world!"
A few seconds passed as I regained my composure.
"Oh! Wow! I've never met anyone I've delivered before!"
"Well, now you have!" She turns to Aleesha, just as the toddler's about to take some chocolate from the shelf.
"What do you say to the nice man?"
Aleesha quickly hides the chocolate in her car, looks sheepishly down at her feet and mumbles a barely audible word.
"Sorry..." she says, as mum and a very strange man burst into hysterics.