A far more accurate account of the events of that fateful morning....

Baby bear goes downstairs, 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.


Daddy 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.

Mommy Bear puts her head through the serving hatch from the kitchen and yells, 'For God's sake, how many times do I have to go through this with you idiots? It was Mommy Bear who got up first. It was Mommy Bear who woke everyone in the house. It was Mommy Bear who made the coffee. It was Mommy Bear who unloaded the dishwasher from last night and put everything away. It was Mommy Bear who swept the floor in the kitchen. It was Mommy Bear who went out in the cold early morning air to fetch The newspaper and croissants. It was Mommy Bear who set the damn table. 'It was Mommy Bear who walked the bloody dog, cleaned the cat's litter tray, gave them their food, and refilled their water.

'And now that you've decided to drag your sorry bear-asses downstairs and grace Mommy Bear with your grumpy presence, listen carefully, because I'm only going to say this one more time....

I HAVEN'T MADE THE DAMN PORRIDGE YET!

This is dedicated to all you hard-working mothers out there and the ladies that take care of your men. And PD said I didn't understand women.

'nuff said.