Baby Bear goes downstairs and sits in his small chair at the table, he looks into his small bowl. It is empty. “Someone’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. “Someone’s been eating my porridge!!” he roars.

Momma Bear pokes her head around the corner from the kitchen and yells, “for Pete’s sake, how many times do we have to go through this?”

“It was Momma Bear who got up first, woke everyone in the house, made the coffee, unloaded the dishwasher, went out in the cold early morning air to fetch the newspaper, set the table, put the cat out, cleaned the litter box, and filled the cat’s 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 PORRIDGE YET!!”