Baba had been waiting for this moment for weeks. He was finally old enough to go to the market all by himself! No Mama holding his hand. No big sister telling him what to do.
That morning, Mama handed him a small shopping list and a shiny 500 naira note.
“Tomatoes, pepper, and a little salt,” she said. “Buy only what’s on the list, bring back the change, and don’t get distracted, Baba.”
Baba stood tall and proud. “Yes, Mama!” he saluted.
He tucked the money carefully into his pocket and skipped out of the house, feeling ten feet tall. The sun was bright, birds were singing, and Baba felt like the whole world was cheering him on.
When he reached the market, it was more alive than he remembered. Women were shouting prices, sellers waved leafy vegetables in the air, and a man balanced a tray of eggs on his head while dancing to loud music.
Baba laughed. “Wow! So much to see!”
He twirled around, imitating the dancing egg-seller. People chuckled and clapped.
He was having so much fun that he didn’t notice the 500 naira note slip out of his pocket.
When Baba finally made it to the tomato stall, he reached into his pocket—and froze.
The money was gone.
He checked his other pocket. Nothing. He patted down his shirt, looked in his shoes, checked under his cap. Nothing.
His stomach tightened. How could I have lost it? he thought.
He retraced his steps, crawling on the ground, asking strangers, even checking a dusty gutter.
But the note was gone.
Panic rose in his chest. He thought about Mama’s tired eyes, how hard she worked just to give him that money. He couldn’t go home empty-handed.
Then a voice inside him whispered, Just buy something small with your own saved-up coins. Mama won’t notice the difference.
Another voice said, Or say someone tricked you. That might work…
Baba looked down at his dusty feet.
“No,” he said out loud. “I have to tell the truth. Even if I get in trouble.”
He turned around and walked home slowly, dragging his feet.
When he reached the house, Mama was already at the door. “Baba! Where are the things?”
He looked up, his eyes shining with tears.
“I lost the money,” he said. “I got distracted and didn’t keep it safe. I looked everywhere. I’m sorry, Mama.”
Mama was quiet. Baba waited for shouting—but it didn’t come.
Instead, Mama bent down and hugged him tightly.
“You made a mistake,” she said softly. “But you told the truth. That takes courage.”
Baba blinked. “You’re… not angry?”
“I’m disappointed about the money,” she said honestly. “But I’m proud of your honesty. Next time, we’ll use a zippered pouch—and no dancing till shopping is done!”
They both laughed.
From that day on, Baba became more careful and more responsible. And whenever he made a mistake, he remembered: telling the truth might be hard, but it’s always the right thing to do.
Baba made a mistake by losing the money, but instead of lying or hiding it, he chose to be honest with his mother. This act of truthfulness—even though he was afraid—earned him respect and taught him to be more careful and responsible in the future.