Once upon a time, in the teeny-weeny state of Rhode Island, where the houses are squished so close together you could borrow sugar from your neighbor without leaving your kitchen, a group of adventurous kids discovered the magical world of sailing. This wasn't a big state like Texas where you could ride a horse for seven days (if you dared) and still not reach the end. Oh, no! Rhode Island was so small that if you stood on your tippy toes, you could almost see across it. Imagine Rhode Island as a bouncy beach ball. It's tossed around by the hands of Massachusetts and Connecticut, while the Atlantic Ocean always tries to give it a good soaking. But, right in the middle of all this, our brave little sailors thrived. The kids were as diverse as a bag of jelly beans - some were blueberry-bold, others marshmallow-meek, but they all shared one thing in common - an insatiable love for sailing. Leading our intrepid gang was Captain Chuckles, a jolly character with a belly as round as a beach ball and a laugh that sounded like a seagull with hiccups. He was as old as the oldest lighthouse in Rhode Island and knew every ripple on the ocean like it was his own backyard. He taught the kids everything, from tying sailor's knots that would make a boy scout green with envy, to reading the mood of the moody Atlantic. Day after day, these little Rhode Islanders transformed the usually calm waters into a theatre of tiny white sails, looking like a flock of seagulls dancing in the breeze. They would laugh, they would shout, they would sing shanties that even a pirate would be proud of. These were the sailing kids of Rhode Island, the smallest state with the biggest heart, where every day was a new adventure on the sea.
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