Baby Bear goes downstairs and sits in his small chair at the table, he
looks into his small bowl. It is empty. “Who’s been eating my
porridge?” he squeaks.
Papa Bear arrives at the big table and sits in his big chair. He
looks into his big bowl, and it is also empty. “Who’s been eating my
Porridge?” he roars.
Momma Bear puts her head through the serving hatch from the kitchen
and yells, “For heavens sake, how many times do we have to go through
this with you idiots? It was Momma Bear who got up first, it was
Momma Bear who woke everyone in the house, it was Momma Bear who made
the coffee, it was Momma Bear who unloaded the dishwasher from last
night, and put everything away, it was Momma Bear who went out in the
cold early morning air to fetch the newspaper, it was Momma Bear who
set the darn table, it was Momma Bear who put the cat out, cleaned the
litter box, and filled the cat’s water and food dish, and, now that
you’ve decided to drag your sorry bear-butts downstairs and grace
Momma Bear’s kitchen with your grumpy presence, listen good, cause I’m
only going to say this one more time. “I HAVEN’T MADE THE DARN
PORRIDGE YET!”