Goals inspired by a 2-year-old’s approach to life

It may lack any common conformity of modern beauty, her you-go-girl, screw-the-haters, you-do-you vibe is very on trend, so it’s something I should probably take note of.

So, here we are at the start of another year and the bizarre need for introspection, setting goals and generally just wiping the slate clean is unavoidable and about as reliable as that one neighbour who didn’t get the memo about Guy Fawkes’ ending in November.

We all do it in our own way a bit though, don’t we?

Have a look back over what the year has brought or taken from us, and if we can even remember what they were, how many New Year’s resolutions we managed to achieve from 12 months earlier.

Much like starting a diet on a Monday, I’m sure there is great psychological reasoning behind why people believe making promises to themselves at the beginning of a new period of time will ensure that it actually comes to eventuality.

Of course, like with many things, there are also usually pretty good counter arguments that tell you exactly why not to use such huge milestone moments to start afresh.So, it is because of this I tend to steer clear of the super obvious writing of lists and instead, this year, I have decided to take a leaf out of my 2-year-old daughter’s book and try to attempt to throw myself in to 2018 in the same way in which she approaches her own wee life.

The first part of this transformation involves going through an intense course of selfactualisation.

This is done in ways such as declaring an obscene number of statements regarding one’s own beauty without care, concern or even a hint of modesty or vanity.

‘‘I look pretty,’’ she says, as she twirls in a tutu skirt paired with a yoghurt-stained hunting top, her face lit up like a Christmas tree.

Although it may lack any common conformity of modern beauty, her you-go-girl, screw-the-haters, you-do-you vibe is very on trend, so it’s something I should probably take note of.

As well as celebrating her own unique take of beauty, stain-ridden clothes included, I plan on taking her lead when it comes to celebrating all the little things in life – from successfully pooing on the toilet, to making a Hot Wheels car land in the right spot after zooming around on a loop track.

Arms are thrust into the air, little yam fingers splayed to the universe, puku pushed out from below her t-shirt, with the look of pure achievement on her face.

‘‘I did it,’’ she squeals with delight, and it is absolutely priceless.

Yeah you did do it girl, and Mumma needs to do it more, too.

Maybe not so much the public displays of glee in regards to bowel movements, but a few more pats on my own back for jobs done well are probably called for.

Something else to learn from my little sass queen is how when things go wrong, there are definitely better ways of coping with it.

The deal with her is, you get to cry, but only for a little bit, before being absolutely and utterly amazed at something like a butterfly flitting past or a surprise fart that leads you to yell ‘‘I farted’’ at the top of your voice.

Her outlook on the bad things that crop up in life is so admirable.

It’s one of my proudest mum moments when people comment on how ‘‘hard’’ she is.

Not because I think people should have tough outsides and hide what’s really going on – quite the opposite – I just think the ability to feel things in real time, and deal with them in real time, and then move on without regrets or resentment is incredible.

She literally busted her lip open, twice, in two days on her summer holiday – blood, tears, the works – but within seconds, her face lit up with laughter at something mundane and silly.

She lets go, and it’s important to let go.

I also aim to be more gentle and kind.

The care she displays to her older sibling and other babies smaller than her, or even her own dolls, is quite something.

Every time I offer her one of her beloved berries, she cocks her head to one side and says her brother’s name in an inquisitive manner as if to say why aren’t you offering some to him?

I then have to gently explain to her that her brother hates everything about fruit in its raw form and then she looks at me with her huge eyes and confused brow, and the sense of injustice that she shows for The One Who Inflicts Many Beatings is quite special.

So here’s to a year based on the theories and thoughts of a 2-yearold girl.