WHEN my four children were little, they always enjoyed their Easter egg hunts – and I always loved plotting them.

Rhyming clues would be laid round the garden and they’d take it in turns, squealing with delight, as they followed the trail.

The three boys soon became too old to have an Easter egg hunt – it wasn’t cool. But my daughter was into her twenties before she reluctantly accepted that she could probably do without one.

Then, in the blink of an eye, it was the turn of our four-year-old granddaughter, Chloe, to experience the same Easter magic.

By the time she came round our house on Easter Sunday, the clues had been set, and she was literally shaking with excitement. I ran out of rhymes years ago, so she had to make do with following a succession of pink Easter bunny paw-prints cut out of cardboard.

Chloe happily followed the bunny trail from the kitchen door, up the patio, round the goldfish pond, over to the swing, across to the bird bath, past the shed, and behind the big fir tree.

Whenever she was stumped, I’d shout “warmer” or “colder” to guide her on her way, and there was a little gasp when she finally found her egg hidden behind a bush. The joy on her face at that moment of discovery made it all worthwhile.

Now, it seems the magic’s rubbed off because she was back round our house for my birthday a week later, and she couldn’t wait to make an announcement after I’d opened my presents: “I got you a present too, Gandalf, but you’ve got to go on a hunt to find it because I hided it.”

(I’ve decided I never want her to learn to pronounce Grandad because I’ve grown quite fond of Gandalf.)

Anyway, it was never going to be warm enough for a garden hunt, so my search was confined to the lounge. “You’re getting colder, Gandalf, warmer, colder, warmer, warmer, warmer,” she shouted as I went round the room.

The present was eventually discovered, hidden behind a cushion on the settee, and she urged me to take the wrapping paper off. I’ll be honest, it wasn’t anything that I was expecting.

“I got you your own stapler, Gandalf, because you’re always taking Ganma’s,” she explained, firmly.

It’s just what I always wanted – my very own stapler. I think my wife’s very pleased too.


SUE Campbell, from Gainford, got in touch to tell me how her seven-year-old grandson Mal, took part in a little video his school made on International Women's Day on March 8th.

He was asked to say a bit about a strong woman in his life and replied: “I think my mum's a strong woman because she can lift all the heavy boxes that come in the post.”

Then he added: “And I love her.”

AND a couple from the archives…A little five-year-old lad called Luke McArthur, from Guisborough, was all dressed up in his new outfit at Easter, and being admired by his Grandma.

“Ooh, you look lovely,” she cooed. “Where did you get your new shirt and tie from?”

“Me Mam got me them from Marks and Expensive,” he replied, proudly.

LEE, seven at the time and living in Loftus, was travelling in the car with his family.

“What are you going to be when you grow up, Lee?” he was asked.

“I’m going to be a fireman,” he replied.

“And what qualifications do you think you’ll need to do that?” asked his step-dad, Simon.

Quick as a flash, Lee came up with the answer: “A pair of wellies and a big axe.”