Rapt. We were at the fantabulous Lawrence Hall of Science, atop the Berkeley hills yesterday — a place the girlie calls the “Lawrence Hollow Science,” and who’s going to have the heart to correct her? — and the kiddles couldn’t resist tucking over to the tyke-sized puppet show stage.   But

Mother’s Day picnickers blow bubbles. The careful observer will note the reclining figure of the picnicker of honor under the oak tree, propped leg visible. I have made a special request for Baba’s Day (celebrated, by amazing coincidence, on the same day as Father’s Day): same picnic spot, same recreational