6 of the best

Esther just turned 6. 

And to honour this unbelievable and disconcerting moment, I've uploaded some blicks of her in her various guises - from odd knitting ragamuffin, to Weimar era glamourpuss, to leopard printed silver booted hero to floral gileted peach. [I'm guessing that ragamuffin and glamourpuss are both terms that shouldn't be printed anywhere anymore but I can't think of an alternative.] She is legion and has an odd knack of being effortlessly cool in what ever random clothes she pulls on. Alas this is not an inherited trait, at least not from her pater, but is glorious to behold. 

She remains a quixotic beast - a high wire act of physical dexterity, high farce (randomly falling over or off things, high emotion (teary bursts) combined with the occassionally piercing insight. When asked about the death penalty over our dining table edition of the moral maze, Esther expounded on the perils of skin colour and the kindred freight of inequality might impact on judicial outcome. Nang! 

Given it wasn't beyond the realm that she could have answered that the death penalty was a great thing, an analysis of structural racism was a delight. I'm pretty sure you could ask most of today's cabinet (or the whole Tory party) on the subject and get a less nuanced answer. And if you'd have asked my that when I was six, I probably would have just asked for more sausages. That's progress. 

It's a beguiling mix.  It could be a little less shrieky or laden with victimhood (Esther is constantly being wronged by the world even when it is obvious she has transgressed) but we wouldn't have it any other way. [Well maybe less shrieking].

Happy 6th Birthday Esther.