He's not little, Babs. He's eleven. "Yeah!" he expulses enthusiastically even as he turns to the door, eyes bright. He reins himself in a second later, though, as if he knows he's behaving improperly. "Uh-huh," he says, more quietly. "Yes. I'm fine."

His eyes are still gleaming, though, and he can't help but look around again. "Do you know what this place is?"