It's not even like nothing significant happened the past weeks. Because a lot did. But work sometimes has a strange way of crowding out everything else. And that's what work has done exactly. 
A lot of what happened is recorded in my head, though. Like how Laila hasn't had an 'accident' and has successfully and consistently gone potty at night. How she enjoyed neighbor Daphne's birthday party, had everone smitten with her Monder Moman outfit and, later that same day, sat patiently through the wedding reception of a friend of Daddy's.
Baby Cat also declared she doesn't want to drink milk from a bottle in school because it's only for babies. She still does though. Bless my little baby.
She sings Bayang Gagiliw and makes you guess what tune she's humming. It's always It's a Small World After All. She complains that her shirt is too small, tugging at the hem if a hint of her belly peeks from underneath.
And there are others that I don't remember now. Which is why I started this journal in the first place. I want to remember. I want to remember all of it. And, when Baby Cat gets bigger, I want to remind her of the days when she was small and she'd run to me, sit on my lap and burry her pretty little face in my neck.
I know when she gets older she'd stop acting like the little baby she is now. She could still be affectionate. But she'd more likely be affectionate in a different manner. She'll forever be my baby but she wouldn't be that babyish baby like now.
Time has a way of sneaking up on you. First I remember waking up to a typhoon-threatened Saturday and, before I knew it, then we were in the middle of the Monday buzz.
I feel like I've done Laila injustice by missing out from chronicling those three weeks. What's good about going amiss and being told of it is that you get a chance to make things right.
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