We had presents this morning when the boys woke up.
Evan had such fun showing us how old he is on his fingers.
Meanwhile, our nefarious captain was steering us down the ICW to Miami. Here it is in the distance. We were thrilled. We anticipated an afternoon relaxing by the pool.
But alas, it was not meant to be, at least not yet. After over a thousand miles on the ICW, and after dealing with drawbridges and their silly schedules all day long, our final bridge was a fixed bridge that was 56 feet high. Our mast in 62 feet high. All along the ICW, from Norfolk to Ft. Lauderdale, ALL the fixed bridges are 65 feet. Oh, the humanity. So we had to turn around and go back to Ft. Lauderdale, head out through the cut and jump back into the Atlantic to get to Miami Beach. Instead of motoring 20 miles we had to go 62 miles. Sigh. At least the Atlantic was flat. We didn't have enough wind to sail, but the seas were nonexistent. Mercifully. I even made Evan's cake while in the Atlantic.
I can't believe my little angel is three!
ima looking for boys underwear
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