Judge me if you will...

...But, occasionally, I've been known to take the kids to McDonalds.  (They don't know what it's called officially.  They've named it "French Fry Village"). 

Here's my logic:  They eat half a cheeseburger each and slurp some choco-milk, and then run their wee buns off on the climber.  I figure they come out ahead, health-wise.

 While waiting for the arrival of food, the boys did some reading.  Charley brought his new Thomas phonics books in for entertainment, whereas Sam chose the tabletop corporate propaganda.  He said to me, with earnestness, "I really like this new book, Mommy!".

 "I vant to suck your trans-fats!"

 Play Place or Kiddie Jail?

 As Charley said; "I laughed until I got hiccups!"

The piggy-slide

The Side-by-Sider Slider

Stop.  Gasp.  Laugh.

Sam performs the 'Brother Mash'.  Poor Charley... all he does is laugh.

Daredevil

Hot, sweaty and all tired out.  Perfect.

Chris and I did not come close to burning off our indulgences, but we did have some good laughs watching these buffoons scamper around.  I've often wondered how much one of those perfectly designed (and, more importantly, injury-impossible) Play Place structures would cost.  Can you imagine having one of those in your basement?  A parents dream.

By the way, I'm on day 3 of the "Sam wearing underwear" mission.  Not sure how it's going yet.  Bribery and cheering are big factors.  Alas, so is pooping in aforementioned underwear.  Send me strength.