More than 600 billion bits of Lego have been produced by the Danish carpenter and toy-maker Ole Kirk Christiansen in the last 67 years.

A nanoscopic proportion of those multi-coloured interlocking bricks lie in a box under Aiden Lints' bed in Te Puke. But in the eyes of any six-year-old or the eyes of a mother, who has to regularly pick them up, it's an impressive stash.

'They represent a lot of late meals and chores not done,” says Mum Monique Lints. They also represent a lot of suffering, a lot of hospital time and a lot of pluck.

'Because whenever Aiden ends up in hospital for scans, ultrasounds, blood tests or bed rests, he gets another box; a new box of Lego.”

And whenever he gets Lego the impish youngster is transported to another world – he is no longer a kid who's been to hell and back or a kid in a wheelchair.

'He becomes the pilot of a spaceship, a forklift driver, he can go to lollipop land.” It's a fertile imagination; and it's escapism.

Aiden was just two-and-a-half and asleep in the back of his parents car when it collided head-on with another vehicle on the last bend out of Whakatane before the intersection of state highways 2 and 33.

'I remember the other driver staring me in the face moments before impact. I can still see his face clearly,” says Monique. And when drifting in and out of consciousness in the hospital emergency department she also remembers a young doctor telling her Aiden had serious spinal injuries and a broken right leg, that he would never walk again and she should say her goodbyes because he was off to Starship children's hospital.

'That was worse – a badly injured child being removed from his mother when he needs her most.” But not for long.

Prescribed six weeks hospital bed rest with a cracked pelvis and broken wrist, Monique left after two-and-a-half weeks. 'I am off to get my babies.”

And there was Aiden in Starship, he was in traction because they couldn't cast his leg and he couldn't even sit up or lift his head. 'I just had to think that doctor was wrong; I just had to think the whole time we were going to prove him wrong.”

That's when the Lego-love kicked in, that's when the boxes of bricks started being drip-fed to Aiden.

And by the time Aiden got to school he'd decided he was going to be like the other kids. He got out of that wheelchair and started walking around the classroom. 'I was speechless,” says Monique. 'He doesn't walk at home but he does at school.”

Aiden walks with a distinctive sway of the hips. But he's mobile. And still, when he ends up in hospital for those scans, ultrasounds or blood tests, there's another round of Lego infusion therapy.

And the prognosis. 'Nothing's guaranteed. But the main thing is to preserve his joints so when he's adult he will enjoy a good quality of life.”

In the meantime there's a kid's quality of life. And that's going to take more Lego, a lot more. Because Aiden and mum Monique are the driving force behind a Lego club, which kicks off at the Te Puke Library.

And even Aiden's mountain of bricks won't cut it. They need donations of Lego so come Friday, June 3, about 20 local youngsters will have plenty of little plastic bricks to meet the tasks and challenges set down for the hour-long class. The Lego can be dropped off at Toyworld or the Te Puke Library. If it takes off there will be a second Lego club meeting at the library on Monday afternoons. Watch this space.

In the meantime there's a Fairhaven Primary School principal's award sitting proudly and prominently in the Lints' lounge. The citation tells us Aiden 'consistently demonstrates respectful, responsible and resilient behaviour in class”.

And for this youngsters who's endured a punishing hospital-ridden start to life, the principal could also have thrown ‘spirit and determination” into the mix.