Boys will be boys

17 degrees. SEVENTEEN DEGREES! In February.
I love living here.

I picked the guys up from school with the windows rolled down and the music turned up. It felt like summer.

My backseat boys had slipped the seatbelts off their shoulders and were leaning out their windows, smiling with their mouths wide open, letting the wind blow the hair off their faces. They looked like human-boy-dogs.

Max turned around and noticed what his friends were doing, then stuck his head out of the front passenger window. "Why are your mouths open? he asked.
"Because it dries out your tongue."
"Oh. Hey dude. I've got a whole bunch of spit. Keep your mouth open and I'll spit OK?"
"OK."

He missed.
But still...

Ewwwwhhh.