Diary of an Honest Naturalista: Week 116

In her usual vacation fashion, Boma came to spend her break with her grandmother AKA my mother, meaning I get to be saddled up with her constant bickering. Thankfully, my work gets to take me away from her for a large part of the day, so she doesn’t weary me as much.

She is getting wiser now, and some of that charm that comes with being an innocent little child is wearing off.

My brothers, Dimeji, Dimeji’s Brother, and I decided to just have fun and hang out at the beach this weekend. And it suddenly became a good idea to Dimeji that we should take Boma along. I protested, but after I was made to look like the wicked witch of the west, I kept quiet, after warning them that I wouldn’t be saddled with any mummy responsibilities. I wasn’t sure what planet adults decide to hangout, and think it best to take a troublesome charming kid who is not their child along.

Anyway, we got to the beach, and she immediately found a team of little children to join in their beach ball game. They had set up rubber goal posts , and were throwing rubber balls up and down. Children of these days sure know how to have fun, no matter how young. As much as I didn’t want to be saddled with mummy duties, I knew I still had to keep my eyes on Boma, especially because I was in the grown female in the group, and guys are not really that good with multitasking.

One thing led to another, and I got carried away with my gisting with the guys that I later forgot about Boma. Kolapo was making our day with gists of the many girls that come onto him just because they feel he has money, and he’s a cool guy, but not necessarily because they liked him for who he was.

About 25 minutes later, I felt a nudge on my hips, with a little voice whining “I want to drink water.” I turned to my side, and wasn’t sure what I was seeing.

It was a sand statue that had come alive, and speaking, and definitely not a human being. Sand with hands, feet, and a body. The only giveaway that I was related to this sand statue was the eyes. I saw Boma’s eyes firmly sculpted into that statue, and I instantly knew I was in for some serious trouble. She was covered with caked in sand from head to toe, including her hair. Her Hair!!!

The reality of the problem I was suddenly facing dawned on me, and I was like

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I looked at Dimeji, and was furious. “You want a cute child to play with right, yet not ready for the responsibility of caring for one. Well, here’s a child for you, and you are going to sort this one out for yourself.” I firmly said to him as I dragged Boma to the water to wash her body off and hope she won’t disappear in the water since I wasn’t sure if her body had been permanently converted to sand.

The hair couldn’t be sorted. Her long natural hair was an extreme shrunken matted mess, and sand was hiding in every nook and cranny. When we got back home, I brought out my shampoo, conditioner, deep conditioner, ACV, lipton tea, coconut oil, olive oil, and many products that could cause confusion. I took them, and dumped them into Dimeji’s laps, and took his hand and Boma’s hand, and joined them together, like a priest conducting a marriage ceremony for them.

“Don’t worry Boma. Uncle Dimeji is taking you to the bathroom to get rid of all that sand hidden your hair with these magic ingredients he has.” I said, speaking more to Dimeji, than Boma.

“He has been telling me about how he wants a cute little daughter with long flowy natural hair like yours. I think it is high time he began to learn how to care for them, and he might just change his mind and pray for a son instead.” I said, and walked out of the house, going to nowhere in particular.

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