Peter Pan

It's late. The lights are off, the lamp is lit. She crawls from one end of the bed to the other. Like she's a kitten stalking a ball of yarn. She gets to the wall and pulls herself up. She starts banging on it.
Strange. She usually goes for the dresser with its bottles and combs; the window with its blinds and cords. Why the plain wall?
She moves her head from side to side, she bends her knees and then pops back up. She hits the wall again, first with one hand, then with the other. She laughs.
"Look," says her dad, "she's playing with her shadow."