Passage 1:

‘Put me down!’ But now he was flying across the room at terrifying speed. Surely he would be smashed to pieces on
the door frame. […] Afternoon sunlight pouring through the garden trees made shifting patterns on the wall of such
beauty that Peter forgot all else.

Passage 2:
The taste and smell, the colour and texture and squelching sound overwhelmed his senses and scattered his
thoughts. Egginess exploded in his mouth, a white and yellow fountain of sensation shot upwards through his brain.
His whole body lurched as he tried to point at the bowl Laura held. He had to have more. […] Until the egg was
finished, Peter could think of nothing else. When it was done, and before he could remember what he was meant to
be talking about, a beaker of orange juice distracted him with its itchy tangy noisy taste. Then mashed banana
started arriving in his mouth. This food was so good he was proud to wear it in his hair, and on his hands and face
and chest.

Passage 3:
Minutes later he was sitting in a bath the size of a small swimming pool, wavelets of warm water lapping round his
chest. He knew he should be talking to his aunt, but for the moment he was more interested in smacking the surface
of the water with his open palms. How intricate and unique each splash was, with droplets separating out as they
rose in the air, and tumbling back to make patterns and ripples. It was so wonderful, so hilarious.
‘Wow, look at this,’ he found himself shouting. ‘Eee ink aark!’ He was so excited that his arms and legs shot out
straight and he tumbled backwards.

Passage 4:
Aunt Laura sang him a lilting, interesting song about a black sheep who was holding back on certain bags of wool for
people he knew.
‘Encore!’ he shouted. ‘Unga!’
So she sang it again. Then she kissed him, raised the side of the cot and quietly left the room.
Peter would have panicked if the song had not made him so happy and sleepy. Early evening sunlight played against
the drawn curtains which stirred mysteriously. Birds trilled their impossible songs. He listened intently.

Passage 5:
He was just about to shout out to her when his atttention was caught by a bright yellow brick near his foot. Yellow,
yellow, yellow, it sang out. It vibrated, it glowed, it hummed. He had to have it. He lunged forwards, his hand closed
round it, but he could not really feel it, not enough anyway. He raised it to his mouth, and with his sensitive lips and
gums and tooth he explored the woody, painty, yellowy, cubey taste of it, until he understood it all.
Then he saw a red plastic hammer, so red he could feel the heat of its colour on his face. With his mouth and tongue
and saliva, he travelled round its ridges and angles and folds.