The nest was transplanted to the bushes outside his room, but, afraid the mother bird wouldn't find it, or would reject the babies for having been touched by human hands (I read somewhere that this was the case with certain birds in the wild), the Au Pair took to feeding the tiny chicks by hand twice a day.
Big A, who had raised fighting cocks and racing pigeons in his youth, didn't expect the chicks to survive the week. But to everyone's surprise, a few mornings later, Little A spelled out "watchbirds" with his letter tiles, and showed me that the nest on his balcony was empty.
The little birds had grown their feathers and taken - sort of - flight. They begun by hopping about the area near the bushes for a day or two, but soon found their wings and flew away.
There's a lesson in this, obviously. That help can come from unexpected places, and that, against odds, one can become a success. So I am applying this to Little A, who has plenty of challenges to face; many more so than the average child. May he find his wings. And fly.