There's Still Four Feet of Snow on the Ground, So We Gotta Go Somewhere

I have discovered the joy of the fast food restaurant.  In an attempt to curb The Bairn's habit of throwing toys (but he never is throwing things, he assures me; he's tossing or flipping or exploding things), I bribed him with a trip to "King Burger," a magical place he spied from the road and did not realize had anything inside it other than a play structure.  We took the whole family there last night and it was like heaven.

For the low low price of a $1 fake ice cream, The Bairn climbed and climbed and climbed with the 6-year-old girl he met in one of the tunnels.  He told her he was 5-years-old, and she showed him how to get to the twisty slide.  She lives in Halifax, but she comes to this very burger joint every Friday because her dad lives here.  Every Friday, she reiterated and then she gave me her baby care credentials while she patted Ellen on the head.  Her name was Hayden, but The Bairn kept calling her Little Girl ("Hey, Little Girl, let's go down the slide!").  He's not great with names.  He calls Ellen Little Ding and Steve Wags, so, you know.