Ever since I was a little girl, I have been obsessed with Peter Pan. The way he use to sneak into children’s rooms and whisk them away to some fantasy land, really got me wishing I would be next. Because a strange boy creeping into your room and taking you away, isn’t as weird in the mind of a 6 year old. My mantra use to be ‘no parents, no problems’ because obviously a young girl should have a mantra that claims her independence at such a tender age. I suppose you could have said I was a sassy child, but how I would always jump of furniture, shouting my happy thoughts at the top of my lungs in an attempt to fly or how I would defy any authoritative figure just because of the fact they were grown-ups, you could have called me a little shit. I constantly clapped my hands, thinking I could save fairies all over the world, the constant slam of my hands so loud and annoying, those closest to me would complain of the steadfast rattling in their bones.
I was four years old when I first went to Disney Land Orlando. Being so young I didn’t really understand what was going on and I can’t remember too much from then except from one defining moment; the moment I met Peter Pan. It was the day we went to Epcot and like good British tourists, me and my family stuck around the English pavilion. We had just turned a corner after saying goodbye to the Sheriff of Nottingham and my life went into slow motion. There at the end of the street was Peter Pan and Wendy. I looked down at my pale blue dress, noticing how much it resembled Wendy’s, how much I looked like Wendy, expect from the matching blue headband I had in my hair. I remember thinking that it was so much prettier than Wendy’s floppy ribbon attached to her bun. So there they stood and my little legs proceeded to carry me as fast as possible to the two figures I had admired the whole of my short life. I left behind the laughter of my family and came face to face with the smiling faces of Peter and Wendy. If I was my 20 year old self, I’m sure I would have cried, it was such a beautiful moment to me. Both Peter and Wendy actually looked happy to see me as if we were rekindled spirits or as if I was one of their lost boys returning home from a battle against the pirates. And I just stood there, mouth dropped in awe, eyes wide in amazement. It wasn’t until my sister, who is six years older than me, joined our little group; I became vaguely aware of what was going on around me. But then she asked for an autograph and snatched the little autograph book that was keeping me grounded out of my dead grip as I clutched it to my chest. Peter started to write in it just as my parents came over and waved their camera at us in the universal sign that they wanted to take a picture. Wendy pulled me in next to her and ask me in her sweet polite way to look at the camera. I however, was too busy staring at Peter to really pay attention. My dad did a countdown, and just as he took the picture, Peter stopped writing and posed in his signature way; hands on hips, chin jutted out. But he missed the flash, and I thought that it was the most funniest thing I had ever seen. Unknowing to me, my parents ended up taking another picture, this time I was looking at the camera, still laughing over Peter Pan missing the photo.