I don't want to grow up.

Mother always talks about how "Responsibility is important, Peter". We do not really see father a lot. He has a very important job. I cannot think of what it is though.

My 12th birthday was two weeks ago. Our Nanny, Ina, made me a cake but Mother said we could not light the candles because it could be bad for the baby. Stupid baby, always crying for no reason, or whimpering like a fool. When I cry, Mother tells me to grow up. But I shan't.

I am not quite sure how, but I have determination.

Anyway, father brought me home these wonderful wooden tubes called Pan pipes. I began playing a wonderful tune – I made it up! – and Father called me his little Peter Pan.

I like this.

Mother made me stop because Stephanie began to cry. Then father told me to stop and the magical moment was gone.

Stephanie annoys me. Nanny coos over her, and when we go to the park, all these chubby, brooding women rush up to her, saying things like "Oh, she is so sweet," or "Stephanie! How pretty!".

I impersonate them and Nanny tells me to grow up.

What is the dire importance of this growing up!

Father says how next year, I shall be 13, which is the age a boy has to grow up quickly. But is shall be gone by then. I must get away.

On one of the instances at the park, I had a butterfly catching net with me. All of the butterflies were boring and white. Boredom was in the air.

The usual group of women rushed up to Stephanie, however a bird landed on the top of the stoutest woman's head and Stephanie began to giggle.

The women ooed and aahd, and at that moment I saw the most beautiful golden butterfly soaring out of Stephanie's perambulator.

I followed it. I chased it for minutes, and I had almost given up – when, with a sly swish of my net, I caught it.

It flapped and struggled for a long time, until it stopped and I took a closer look.

It was a lady! With wings?

"Who are you?" I said, bowing a little.

She squeaked quietly. I held her to my ear and heard her squeaking "TINKERBELL. NOW LET ME GO!"

Taking no notice, I replied "I am Peter. Peter Pan."

She stopped squeaking and looked at me.

I had an idea.

I bent down and picked up a pretty daisy from off the ground. I held it out to her, and though it was taller than she, she took it, blushing.

We talked, and I told her how much I did not want to grow up.

She told me she had an idea.

I did not want to let her go in case it was a trick. But I did, and she hovered above me, shaking.

Golden dust was settling on my arms and face, making me sneeze.

I was gazing up at her, when I looked down.

Below me was the whole of London! I could see the park – the huddle of bright colours was the women huddled around Stephanie and I laughed in glee.

I was flying!

I followed Tinkerbell high into the sky, and before I knew it…I was in a magical place…a beautiful place that Tinkerbell called NeverGrowUpLand. Neverland.

I saw mermaids and lions and mystical creatures – and a pirate ship.

I soared aboard and saw a fat man in a yellow bandana playing pan pipes. I introduced myself as Peter Pan.

"I can do better!" I said, grabbing them off him. I began to play and everyone seemed intruiged…until the boat began shaking.

"He's awaked The Deep!" They screamed, and I soon learned, from Tink, who had been sat upon my shoulder (her movements tickling me) The Deep was a monster.

I flew away, leaving them yelling behind me, "WE'LL GET YOU PETER PAN!"

Neverland was great! Day turned into night, and so on and so forth – but I felt no more grown up. No stupid babies, and no cooing Nannies.

But no Father. Or Mother.

It needn't matter.

They had Stephanie. They did not need me.