Lire likes to find "pretty things" outside. He then shows them to me and usually gives them to our little Buddha in my sewing room. These types of things include rocks, shells, shards of glass, broken pieces of plastic.
Today it was the shell from a robin's egg.
Me: Wow! Where did you find it?
Lire: Outside, on ground.
Me: (holding shell and noticing it was still sticky) Um, on the ground?
Lire: In bush, then on ground. I get big stick, I poke, poke poke bush...
Me: (!) You hit the nest?! And then the egg fell on the ground?
Lire: (noticing my alarm, he gets quiet) I get stick... so pretty...
We go outside so he can show me. Between me, Dad and Lire, we figure out that yes, our small boy has disrupted a robin's nest, poked the hell out of it and ended the very short life of one of its future denizens. We explained to him why this wasn't a good idea, but acknowledged that he didn't mean to hurt the egg or the birds, but to try not to do it again.
Once Lire realized that the egg was to become a baby robin, well, he was crushed.
Lire: I want time-out.
Me: You didn't mean it, Lire, you don't need a time-out.
Lire: Yes, I time-out.
Me: Well, if you want to, you can sit in your room and come out when you feel better.
I open the door to go in myself and hold it open for him.
Lire: I no time-out.
This followed an interrupted nap which itself was followed by a tantrum brought on by having to choose between staying home with me and going grocery shopping with Daddy. Lire's choice. Then later at dinner he cried because, well, I forget why. Something having to do with mustard maybe. Or apple juice.
I think he may be having a change of life or something.
(Lire is pretending he has removed one of his eyeballs and put it into his mouth. This was learned by Uncle J. Nice.)