Poor Sponge Bob

Maya and I were planning to fly back via Toronto, and meet Ahmed's family. That was back in the innocent days when we were imagining a four or five month process, and we were going to make our leisurely way home. Ahmed had suggested that on the way, we celebrate Maya's six month anniversary with a party in Canada, and have a little Mexican theme, piñata, salsa, guacamole. Well, five months have now gone by and we're still at the start of the process, so no leisurely trips home. The minute we get the adoption finalized and Maya's passport in my hot little hand, I'm going to sprint to the airport with her and get the first flight possible back to Abu Dhabi.

The day after the Canada family arrived, it was Zachary's third birthday. We're in Mexico and there are shops bursting with piñatas hanging from the ceiling. So we decided to have that celebration party with them here instead, and Ahmed lugged a gigantic Sponge Bob piñata home under one arm, a sleeping 15 kg Zachary over one shoulder, and several kilos of sweets...um...I don't know where, being pulled along behind on a string? Stuffed down his pants? All the while encouraging Dean to 'keep on walking, keep on walking' home. The poor boys were tired and jetlagged, but they made it.


Sponge Bob going up.

Sponge Bob met a sorry end, beaten to a pulp (literally, he's made of paper), crushed and broken on the ground, with his guts spilled everywhere. But you know, there's nothing like thrashing a helpless papier maché object to work out a bit of 'endless bureaucracy frustration'. Felt good, and didn't feel a bit sorry for the poor fella.


Sponge Bob going down...