Salesman, Softball and Son

Today I went to Copeland Sports to buy a softball. I ended up picking out a new softball, a bat bag and a pair of baseball socks with yellow stripes. I went back downstairs to the checkout counter. The kid at the counter had his back to the line, was sitting on a stool with his feet up on the counter, talking on the phone. He was wearing a "Punk Rock" T-shirt and had spikey black hair and torn jeans. I listened for a second as he gave his friend the play by play of the night before...
"Ya... so... we like left the party and got into Mark's crappy car and started heading over to this other crappy party and I was like dude, the party's gonna blow..."
He heard me set my stuff on the counter and turned around with a face that read, "Crap! My mom caught me smoking pot!" A deer caught in headlights.
"Uh... dude? I gotta go! Hold on! Okay? Just hold on!"
He put down his cell on the counter and looked at me. "Uh... sorry!! I'm sorry! I wasn't on the phone! I was uh... just... sorry!"
"It's okay. It's not a big deal."
"Sorry!"
"Really, it's fine. I used to do it at work all the time. No biggie."
"Really? Phew! Wow. That was close."
He started ringing me up. He looks up at me and says, "You got a son that plays softball?"
Stunned silence. Maybe he noticed that the socks were size small and assumed it was for a kid...
"No... I just have small feet."
"What?"
Confused silence.
"No... I play softball."
"Oh, cool... I mean, girls that play sports are cool."
"Uh huh..."
He gave me back my debit card and I quickly walked away in a panic. What was it that made him think I had a son old enough to be playing softball? Am I dressed like an old lady? Do I have a mom voice? WHAT???

I still haven't recovered. At least he didn't call me ma'am.