Even I noticed the perfectly formed bottom of the woman sporting a clingy, ankle-length, knit skirt. She was perfect from the back–– and okay––the front.

From his vantage, he was totally drawn to the ass. Who wouldn’t be?

In this era of #MeToo, he just reached out and touched it, oh-so-slightly. His hand didn’t really fit around her bottom. But it was a rewarding grab. She did not whip around and slap him like in an old-timey movie. I wondered if, like me, she sort of still welcomes a nice touch on the ass.

That’s when I flashed on a memory of when my kids were young, and I had to drop my daughter off at her best friend’s house in Pasadena. That drive would mark the end of me driving to Pasadena because, well, there are just too many merging, frightening freeways, and that’s the only way to get there. When I arrived, I walked into the house and the young boy there started patting my ass. When his mother said how sorry she was and told tell him to stop, I said, “Oh don’t worry. It’s fine. I never have to buy my own son toys because he prefers playing with my ass.” And, on that note, I left. They still let their daughter come to my house for sleepovers and we remain friends. My ass was never mentioned again.

Back to the grassy area of a fancy, upscale mall in Pacific Palisades. That’s where we were at the top of this. As his hand left her bottom, I apologized profusely and sort of white-lied, “He probably thought you were his mother.” The woman in the tight skirt was a stunner––my show-bizzy dad would have called it “good casting.” But she seemed okay with it, said it was fine. I added, “We know one thing. He’ll be an ass man.” I didn’t wait around to hear if she thought that was humorous.

For now, he’s clearly a tits man. Several times a day, my daughter will stop what she’s doing so he can raise her shirt and drink some milk.

There will never be a restraining order. The boy in this story will never be charged.

The boy in this faintly inappropriate #metoo story is my grandson.

His name is Elvis.

He is 19 months old.

Food: There are many restaurants in the Palisades Village. All are just fine. I get a great grilled salmon salad from Edo Bites.

Tags: augie duke, Elvis, fredde duke, Freddie Duke, fredrica duke, Grandson, Palisades Village, Restaurants in Pacific Palisades

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