Baby bear goes downstairs, sits in his small chair at the table. He looks into his small bowl. It’s empty. “Who’s been eating my porridge?” he squeaks. Daddy Bear arrives at the table and sits in his big chair. He looks into his big bowl and it’s also empty. “Who’s been eating my porridge?!” he roars.
Mama Bear pokes her head out of the kitchen and yells, “For Pete’s sake, how many times do I have to go through this with you idiots? It was Mama Bear who got up first. It was Mama Bear who woke everyone in the house. It was Mama Bear who made the coffee. It was Mama Bear who unloaded the dishwasher from last night and put everything away. It was Mama Bear who swept the floor in the kitchen. It was Mama Bear who went out in the cold early morning air to fetch the newspaper. It was Mama Bear who set the table. And now that you’ve decided to drag your sorry bear-butts downstairs and grace Mama Bear with your grumpy presence, listen carefully, because I’m only going to say this once: “I haven’t made the DAMN porridge yet!”
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