Back once again with the renegade master.

Fear not little Esther. Just as I righted your sister's listing blog, I'm committed to doing the same to yours. Which you might come to regret, being as this is a contemporaneous, unauthorised biography, but hopefully you'll read all this and see it as the kind act of very soft headed and loving pater. 

When this blog fell silent, Esther had just started school and now we find in spring term of year 1 - albeit in a google classroom such is the oddness of our current world. She rather thrived in reception even if she did try and monopolise her teacher's attentions with her unending stream of thoughts and ideas and answers - and having tried to impart some lasting knowledge during first lock down I have an intimate understanding of how hard this can be and thus a profound respect for her teachers. 

Regardless of my own personal teaching pains, she is as smart as tack which while lovely can manifest in a megalomaniac tendency when she seems to think she knows everything (literally everthing) or else patronises her dear parents to the point where the only remedy is an industrially proportioned sherry. 

Esther remains quicksilver. In any given day she can move through a kaleidoscopic range of emotions and feelings from the depths of emotional despair to soaring highs often punctuated by her own glorious physical grammar of pratfalls. She has retain an ability to cartwheel off tables, miss chairs, trip over anything and, so far, remain uninjured. I fear that one day she'll do herself a serious mischief but so far it has been narrowly avoided and adds a delighful frisson of danger to even the most mundane task as with Esther almost anything can happen at any given moment.

And while it probably doesn't surprise you to learn that she has some idiomatic language, unlike her sister her capacity to swear is not tethered to any sense of shame. Indeed, Esther has some preternatural capacity for foulmouthery which is a delight to behold.

Anyway. We're back. Enjoy Estherhazy.