I blame it all on the boy. Almost from the time he could speak, my youngest son has wanted to go to "boat school," the on-the-sea form of home school. We always played along with him, though Gary had the more wistful look in his eye. I never banked on it really happening. I figured the more years I acquired and the more weight under my belt would make the idea less attractive.
Then we found THE boat. And then we bought her. Uh-oh. It got serious all of a sudden. So last winter, our now 15-year-old says that he wanted to be homeschooled for his sophomore year in high school. My husband's brain, psycho computer that it is, thought that if the son wanted to be homeschooled, maybe we could do something as a family that would make it a fantastic learning experience. Thus, this odyssey was born.
We moved aboard a week ago. I got sick with an upper respiratory infection the same day. It was also hot as hell and very uncomfortable. More than a few times, I threw my hands up in the air saying, "I'm already so over this." But stuff got unpacked and stowed, I got meds, and the weather has cooled to only slightly uncomfortable temperatures. Plus, the restaurant at the top of the hill makes some pretty fine sweet tea, an anchoring tie if ever there was one.
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