Some Incestual Complex

So today I went to Olive Garden for lunch, which was fine. As we left our table and headed for the exit, I realized I had forgotten my scarf. I went back to get it, except it wasn't there. A waiter saw me looking under and around the table, and asked me if I were looking for something.

Me: Yeah... I thought I left my scarf at the table, but I can't find it so I guess I must have left it somewhere else.
Waiter: Oh, that table? We already found your scarf and sent it up to the front desk.
Me: Oh really? Thank you.
Waiter: Yes, we gave it to your husband.
Me: ...my husband?

I suppose I could have enlightened him on the state of my love life, but I didn't really feel like getting too detailed in the aisle of an Olive Garden.

Waiter (beaming confidently): Yes, your husband.
Me: I see. Thanks...

I go back up to the front desk, and my worst fears are confirmed: my dad is holding my scarf.

This makes absolutely no sense to me, especially since my mother was there too. Really? I know Asians are supposed to be hard to tell apart, but come on.