Alan has been going to the bakery to buy bread.
-- Oh, the bakery is just down the street. I mean, if you stand at the end of our driveway, you could hit the bakery with a rock.
And the street is not a busy street, at all. Yerevan may be a city of a million people, but our neighborhood has the look and feel of a village. There's not a lot of traffic. Kids play ball in the street, and people stroll slowly down the middle of it.
Still: four years old, barely.
We give him a hundred-dram coin (about a quarter) and he goes out the door and down the street. The bakery sends most of its product to stores, but there's a small window for local sales. If he stands on his toes, he can just barely reach the buzzer to summon the bakery lady.
The loaf is oval and flat and usually still warm from the oven. He needs both hands to carry it.
And that's all.