After uttering those words, Peter insisted up and therefore always did little boy things. He would play in the mud, tease little Georgia Keating down the street (never admitting that he thought that she was better than swell) and still sneaking yummy snacks. As he neared the age of 7 and the first grade loomed around the corner, Peter continued to think about his youth. In his spare moments, he would climb trees and get all dirty, refusing to practice the alphabet, counting, or even proper hygiene.
“You smell, Peter Pan,” Georgia had once told him, plugging her nose and laughing at him. It was a few seconds later that he had pushed her into a pile of mud and launching her into a fit of tears. Her new dress was ruined, as she complained to her mother about him. Her mother just laughed and said that it meant he liked her. Although it was as true as the mud was brown, Peter would refuse it and claim that girls are icky.