Thanks to Malcolm Powell for sending me this:
Could this be a far more accurate account of the events of that fateful morning …
Baby bear went downstairs, sat in his small chair at the table. He looked into his small bowl.Â It was empty.Â “Who’s been eating my porridge?” he squeaked.
Daddy Bear arrived at the big table and sat in his big chair.Â He looked into his big bowl and it was also empty.Â “Who’s been eating my porridge?!?” he roared.
Mummy Bear put her head through the serving hatch from the kitchen and yelled, “For goodness sake, how many times do I have to go through this with you idiots?
It was Mummy Bear who got up first.
It was Mummy Bear who woke everyone in the house.
It was Mummy Bear who made the coffee.
It was Mummy Bear who unloaded the dishwasher from last night and put everything away.
It was Mummy Bear who swept the floor in the kitchen
It was Mummy Bear who went out in the cold early morning air to fetch the newspaper and croissants.
It was Mummy Bear who set the table.
It was Mummy Bear who walked the dog, cleaned the cat’s litter tray, gave them their food, and refilled their water.Â
And now that you’ve decided to drag your sorry selves downstairs and grace Mummy BearÂ with your grumpy presence, listen carefully, because I’m only going to say thisÂ once …I HAVEN’T MADE THE *#~*^ PORRIDGE YET!!!”