THE door that leads from our garage to the kitchen tells a tall story. It has little marks in different coloured ink recording the rapid growth of the children during the six years we've lived in the house.

The oldest was nine when we moved in and the others seven, six, and three. They have meticulously plotted their progress and the first lowly height marks have started to fade.

Me and Mum had to be measured too, of course, so that the kids could see themselves catching us up. I'm five feet eleven and a half. I never quite made it to six feet, hard though I tried. Mum is five feet three and a half and those halves are important to both of us.

Christopher, the first-born, overtook his Mum ages ago. He towers over her, so much so that she gets a crick in the neck whenever she has a conversation with him.

She asked him for a kiss when he was leaving for school yesterday and he said: "Sorry, I can't stoop down that low. Bye."

But having a son who dwarfs her has its uses. While she'd have to use a stool, he can reach anything for her from the top shelf of the kitchen cupboards.

To rub salt into the wounds, Hannah - now 14 - has also outpointed her Mum, while Jack, 13, is just half an inch or so away from relegating her to the second shortest person in the house.

Then, last week, a major milestone was reached. Christopher drew the latest line on the door and the measuring tape confirmed it - he'd hit the six feet mark.

The boy I carried around on my shoulders for the first few years of his life has taken over the mantle of the tallest in the family. He's only half an inch bigger than me but it might as well be a mile and - cruelly - he's started calling me 'shorty'.

His shoes are size twelve and a half. Mine are a mere size ten. When he leaves them in the hall, they remind me of boats waiting in the harbour.

"Don't worry about it, Shorty - you might be due a growth spurt," he said, smugly.

But at 44, it's not going to happen. In fact, when I double checked my height against the door, I seemed to have gone down to five feet eleven. He's got years of growing room left - and I'm shrinking.

The youngest, Max, is sprouting at an alarming rate too. I went up to his bedroom the other day and he was spread out on his bed, grimacing.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

"Stretching exercises," he groaned. "I'm going to be a giant like Christopher."

He then went on to tell me that Sponge Bob Square Pants, one of his cuddly toys, can touch his nose with his foot.

"So can I, Dad," he said, demonstrating the feat with admirable suppleness.

I knew instinctively what the next question was going to be: "Can you touch your nose with your foot, Dad?"

I lay on the bed and had a go but got nowhere near.

"You need to do some stretching exercises to make your legs longer, Dad," said Max as I hopped round the room with cramp.

I'd come up short again.

THE THINGS

THEY SAY

From members of the Achates Ladies, who meet at Shiney Row Masonic Hall in Sunderland...

RITA Harker recalled the time she was baby-sitting grand-daughter Claire.

There was an election taking place at the time and a candidate went past in a van equipped with a loud-hailer.

"What was that?" asked Claire, who was six at the time.

"There's an election on," Rita explained. "We have to vote."

"Can anyone vote?" Claire enquired.

"No. You have to be 18 - your Mam and Dad can vote," said Rita.

"They're not 18," Claire declared. "They're well into their thirties."

SHEILA Hough remembered something grand-daughter

Lauren, aged four, had said.

"You know what, Mam," said the little girl, "they've got a hanging basket for men next door."

It turned out that the neighbours had a hammock in the garden.

ANN Dodd was looking after her grandson Peter who wasn't very well.

Grandma gave Peter a drink and he started to cough.

"Ooh, that's gone down the wrong pipe," she said.

"What do you mean, Grandma?" asked Peter.

Grandma went on to explain that people had two pipes - a pipe for breathing and a pipe for food and drink.

The little lad cuddled up to his Grandma, put his arm round her, and squeezed one of her love-handles.

"I think I've found your other pipe, Grandma," he said.

Published: 18/05/2006