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<h1 class="entry-title">Sticky Post</h1>
<p><span class="entry-date">05/06/2008</span> <span class="entry-author">by Ellen</span> | <a href="#" >2 Comments</a></p>
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<p>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. <span id="more-358"></span></p>
<h2>h2 headline</h2>
<p>Mrs. Darling first heard of Peter when she was tidying up her
children’s minds. It is the nightly custom of every good mother after
her children are asleep to rummage in their minds and put things
straight for next morning, repacking into their proper places the many
articles that have wandered during the day.</p>
<p>If you could keep awake (but of course you can’t) you would see your
own mother doing this, and you would find it very interesting to watch
her. It is quite like tidying up drawers. You would see her on her
knees, I expect, lingering humorously over some of your contents,
wondering where on earth you had picked this thing up, making
discoveries sweet and not so sweet, pressing this to her cheek as if it
were as nice as a kitten, and hurriedly stowing that out of sight. When
you wake in the morning, the naughtiness and evil passions with which
you went to bed have been folded up small and placed at the bottom of
your mind and on the top, beautifully aired, are spread out your
prettier thoughts, ready for you to put on.</p>
<h3>h3 headline</h3>
<p>I don’t know whether you have ever seen a map of a person’s mind.
Doctors sometimes draw maps of other parts of you, and your own map can
become intensely interesting, but catch them trying to draw a map of a
child’s mind, which is not only confused, but keeps going round all the
time. There are zigzag lines on it, just like your temperature on a
card, and these are probably roads in the island, for the Neverland is
always more or less an island, with astonishing splashes of colour here
and there, and coral reefs and rakish-looking craft in the offing, and
savages and lonely lairs, and gnomes who are mostly tailors, and caves
through which a river runs, and princes with six elder brothers, and a
hut fast going to decay, and one very small old lady with a hooked nose.
It would be an easy map if that were all, but there is also first day
at school, religion, fathers, the round pond, needle-work, murders,
hangings, verbs that take the dative, chocolate pudding day, getting
into braces, say ninety-nine, three-pence for pulling out your tooth
yourself, and so on, and either these are part of the island or they are
another map showing through, and it is all rather confusing, especially
as nothing will stand still.</p>
<h4>h4 headline</h4>
<p>Of course the Neverlands vary a good deal. John’s, for instance, had a
lagoon with flamingoes flying over it at which John was shooting, while
Michael, who was very small, had a flamingo with lagoons flying over
it. John lived in a boat turned upside down on the sands, Michael in a
wigwam, Wendy in a house of leaves deftly sewn together. John had no
friends, Michael had friends at night, Wendy had a pet wolf forsaken by
its parents, but on the whole the Neverlands have a family resemblance,
and if they stood still in a row you could say of them that they have
each other’s nose, and so forth. On these magic shores children at play
are for ever beaching their coracles [simple boat]. We too have been
there; we can