Trekhprudny Lane

Sunday, our only day to be together all week... it was a gray and drizzly afternoon, but the city wears that atmosphere elegantly, and we went again to the university's botanical garden, where no one chastises you if you dig in the dirt a bit or pick a leaf sample or two right from the trees. We saw orange carp glowing vaguely in the dark depths of the lily pond, and a few elderly honeybees, moving very slowly between the last flowers, with tiny drops of rain under their wings. It was a beautiful day.

We always try to squeeze too much into these precious weekend hours, beyond what the girls can really manage, and today EB threw the most dramatic tantrum of her life when we were just blocks from home. She laid down in the wet grass of a popular park and rolled, screaming, inconsolable, for a good fifteen minutes. Person after person, young and old, men and women, stopped -- briefly or, in a few cases, scandalized enough to remain a long time -- to talk to her. Interestingly, not a single Muscovite could pass her by with a mere raising of eyebrows -- not one decided "It's none of my business." So different than Chicago. Invariably they stopped short, crept over to her with a hand outstretched, cooingly tried to persuade her to stand, and when that didn't work, looked around for us (we were standing sheepishly behind some trees, furiously embarrassed and at a loss) and disapprovingly said -- to a one! -- "The ground is wet! She'll be sick!" But no threat or bribe could move her. Finally we evicted poor Lula from the stroller, scooped EB up by force and stuck her in it, where she calmed down in minutes and rode home as cheerful as if nothing had happened.