He toddled to the wood pile, on which rests the small box of sidewalk chalk, and tried to climb.

“Do you want chalk?” I asked.

“Taaaaaaaaaak!” he affirmed.

He took the chalk, bounced over to his ride-able toy firetruck, which has a small storage compartment, opened said compartment, and dropped the chalk in. He pushed it out of the carport then up half of the driveway, where he stopped and emptied his cargo onto the pavement. Taking the fat cylinder of chalk in his hand, he scratched enthusiastically at the pavement, just as L had done so many years ago.

Having multiple children is a constant reminder of the cyclical nature of almost all we do. E is now fascinated with chalk for drawing on the driveway — large, fat chalk that leaves pink and red and blue marks on the black pavement.

“Koło!” he cried as he made yet another circle.