The Sleeper

My little girl couldn’t fall asleep.
So I told her to close her eyes, think of clouds, and count slowly to ten.
She always fell asleep at five or six.
But one night, she got to ten.
And she was by the bed, shaking me.
Wake up, Daddy, she said.
She does it to her classmates, at their desks.
She doesn’t even have to count out loud.
She just thinks of clouds and counts to ten.
What happens when you count backwards? I ask her.
She shakes her head. No, she says.
I feel tired, so I don’t ask again.