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Hi, my Pointe-Claire friends and readers! I decided to write something different for this month.

Many of you should be familiar with the song “I Won't Grow Up” from the 1954 musical and 1960 NBC telecast “Peter Pan,” both starring Mary Martin:

“I won't grow up (I won't grow up)

I don't want to go to school (I don't want to go to school) Just to learn to be a parrot (Just to learn to be a parrot) 

And recite a silly rule (And recite a silly rule)

If growing up means it would be beneath my dignity to climb a tree,

I'll never grow up, never grow up, never grow up. Not me! Not I! Not me! Not me!”

Well, the truth is I have grown up. I've already been to school – and learned to be a parrot while reciting all the rules. It wouldn't be beneath my dignity to climb a tree, but I would prefer to use a ladder now. I am proud to say my inner Peter Pan is alive and well!

Peter Pan, a character created by Scottish novelist and playwright J. M. Barrie, is a mischievous boy who can fly and who never ages. He spends his never-ending childhood adventuring on the small island of Neverland as the leader of his gang, the Lost Boys.

I don't suffer from “Peter Pan syndrome.” It's a pop psychology phrase describing people who do not want to or feel unable to grow up – people with the body of an adult but the mind of a child. My adult mind has simply maintained a direct link to my inner child.

I need both – the adult to know the difference and act responsibly and the child to know when to let go and breathe.

We learn to recite the “silly rules” so well that they become a subconscious mantra, slowly drowning out the voice of the child. We are guilty of abandonment, leaving behind the wondrous and curious mind of childhood, the joy found in the simplest of things, the ability to laugh and giggle at everything and anything just because it is, well, funny.

Someone suffering from Peter Pan syndrome might take it too far. Burping with childlike abandon, oblivious to those around them – I would regard it as disrespectful and gross. People with the syndrome don’t feel as though they are part of the problem, because they are not aware of it.

But I'm aware of exactly what I'm doing. Being an adult allows me to learn, to respect and appreciate people – ideas and things a child is unable to do. But when I walk by a park I like to go on the new funky slides and swings – if I can fit my adult butt into them. I like to hang out with the kids at family gatherings – they're funnier, sillier, and far more in the present. My idea of fun at the mall is finding an arcade and abandoning myself to the lights and dings of a good pinball machine before perusing the stores. I like joking around and laughing – I’m my own favourite joke.

It's true, my whimsical moments can sometimes get out of control. I can become quite loud and silly and scare the heck out of the adults around me. They look at me with concern, and I am forced to rein myself in. I become embarrassed at getting caught, just like a kid. And I'm proud of it. Nope, I won't grow up – not completely anyhow.

Much love (and silliness)! 

I’ll be back in August. If you have good “Babble” ideas for next month, feel free to contact me at: bonnierwords2024@gmail.com.