Who cracked the road?

On the way home from dropping the kids on the bus the other day, Henry kept stomping his foot. I, as usual, was in a hurry trying to get to the gym that morning, and I asked him why he was stomping his foot. "Crack road," he said. I looked down with him at our concrete road, which resembles the skin of an elephant--chinked and rifted in patternless patterns. Henry stomped his foot again, took a big step back to look at the road, and stated authoritatively, "See mom. I crack road."