Peter Pan

Well, it's finally happened. I'm sick. I've been fighting it for weeks, but today I give in. I'm home from work and I've been lying miserably in bed all morning, sleeping. I only got up to let mom into the house. You know, when you're sick, no matter how old you are, you just need your mother.

I have stacks of books to read, of course, but nothing really perked my interest until the mailman came. He dropped Peter Pan in my mailbox. I was hooked after the first paragraph.

All children, except one, grow up. They soon know that they will grow up, and the way Wendy knew was this. One day when she was two years old she was playing in a garden, and she plucked another flower and ran with it to her mother. I suppose she must have looked rather delightful, for Mrs. Darling put her hand to her heart and cried, "Oh, why can't you remain like this for ever!" This was all that passed between them on the subject, but henceforth Wendy knew that she must grow up. You always know after you are two. Two is the beginning of the end.