Mihiretu has an eye for the ladies. He, like many men I know, is particularly impressed with boobs.
We were in line for ice cream yesterday at the Fairfax Scoop (if you're ever within a hundred miles of Fairfax, it's worth the trip) when Mihiretu spotted someone lovely choosing her flavor at the front. She was maybe nineteen, with long blond hair and - here's the best part - she was wearing a bikini top. She had a long flowing skirt on the lower half of her body, but the upper half was almost entirely on display.
Mihiretu saw her from behind, tugged on my hand and said, "Look, Mama, no shirt." Clearly this warranted further investigation so he made his way past the waiting customers and sidled up beside her. He looked her up and down then, and just so no detail would escape him, he scurried behind her to view her from the other side. She was immersed in the decision between Vanilla Honey Lavender and Blackberry Swirl and didn't notice the three-foot Lothario below. After a good long look, Mihiretu, satisfied, threaded back through the throng to me.
Ben said that when he took Mihiretu and Lana canoeing down the Russian River a few weeks ago, Mihiretu would point out any scantily clad woman. The more cleavage, the brighter the swimsuit, the bigger the hussy, the better. "Pitty," he'd tell Ben, with a lascivious smirk, shaking his head slowly in awe. "Pitty, pitty."
Can't wait to see who he drags home in ten years. Seems like he might have a Bill Clinton complex.