Every year since Grace has been old enough to notice, we've found a robin's egg or two. Usually they're broken, whether by hatchlings or thieves is never clear. Once in a while we find an intact one. This year Peter insisted he was old enough to hold it (his argument was something like, "I am gentle wif all da little animals!" Sure. Tell it to the cat.) But he held the egg quite carefully, and then the kids returned it to the base of the tree where we found it. Earlier I saw a fledgling of some kind taking a bath in water collected in their sandbox - maybe a robin from the same nest.
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