Fun with rubber gloves

 
Getting back to the dairy...After 4x4ing in the back of the dairy in one of their pits and finger-sucking by calves, we made our way to a little plot of land where they store some of the equipment and various other things, including my brother's dilapidated, pre-married RV. When I say dilapidated, it's an understatement. My dad forewarned the kids with cautionary tales of birds inhabiting the "fun-on-wheels." Just to prove a point, when Opa opened the door, a crusty, dead bird fell out. The kids hopped in eagerly and found a box of rubber gloves. Honestly, one can't plan some of these things out any better. So, everyone put on a pair of gloves and began touching everything with germ-free worry. It's crazy how a thin layer of laytex can be quite the courage boost. While walking around the RV (and I use this term loosely), we could see a nest where indeed, birds were hanging their "Home Sweet Home" sign. While exiting the vehicle, Kenna decided to hold a bird anatomy lab right then and there with the dead, crusty bird that had previously fallen at their feet. Unabashed, urban fun!