Our neighbors spend the summer as a B&B for a group of robins. Between the hanging plants on the front porch and the wreath on the front door, there are any number of places for them to make homes for a few months.
Well, we had been keeping an eye on the robin and babies who were living in the wreath. Or rather, on the wreath. (Our neighbors spent the summer not going out the front door lest something happen to the babies.) It was so entertaining to see the mom swoop in and out under the front porch overhang and just generally strut around being protective of the little ones.
Here comes the good part. One day, I got a phone call from our sitter...apparently, the baby robins had flown the coop, literally, and my girls were going to "help" one of the babies up onto the curb from the street. Knowing that they weren't supposed to touch birds, so they scooped it up with a sand pail with the intent of placing it back in the grass.
The prospect of actually CAPTURING a robin was far too much excitement to handle, and they decided they would keep the bird in the pail. And feed it.
Then, if a pail is good, a PURSE is better! So, they put the robin into a hard-sided, pink purse, shaped like a ladybug.
Our sitter was driving them to summer camp. The girls were conspiratorially whispering in the back (bad sign). As our sitter dropped them off, she heard something. A little peep. From the purse, of course.
Sitter: WHAT IS IN THE PURSE?
Daughter #1: (sudden tears) DON'T TELL MY MOM!!
Oh, I love it. Nothing like a kid to not think through a whole situation...as in, did they think the bird was going to live in their closet? In the purse?