![]() On the other hand, she was not wrong about Papa Bear. Mama Bear-mean and cruel?! She had been the sweetest, kindest, lovingest Mama in the world! And him not sharing his things? Why, Goldilocks had broken in and stolen his things, and spoilt them! She was a burglar and a thief and a liar! Goldilocks said, “Oh Daddy, I was so scared without you! Papa Bear was so rough and fierce, and Mama Bear was so mean and cruel, and Baby Bear wouldn’t share a single one of his nice things with me!”īaby Bear couldn’t believe his ears. Tell me again about your exciting adventures with those evil Bears.”īaby Bear’s eyes nearly fell out of his head. Stroking Goldilocks’ hair, the man crooned, “Come, pretty princess. How come someone like Goldilocks got cuddles, but there were none left for him? Lo and behold, in front of a toasty campfire was that awful Goldilocks, tucked cozily in the lap of a big old barrel-shaped man. He crept behind a thick bush to peep at the giggler. Then came that high, girlish giggle again, that made him think of maggoty strawberries. There was an answering murmur in a deep, strange voice. The voice was familiar, and made his fur crawl. He was awakened by a giggle coming out of the dark. He lay down on a soft bed of fallen autumn leaves and fell fast asleep. He walked up this path and down that stream and round and around the next bend, losing his way on purpose, because he was done with Papa Bear forever and would never go home again. He walked to the right of this tree and to the left of that bush. He walked and walked, stomping his paws to show that he meant business. So Baby Bear swiped furiously at his streaming eyes, lifted his chin high and walked. He had sort of hoped that Papa Bear would come after him, but the front door had swung shut after him and remained that way. He ran out the front door and into the woods. “Why did you never fix my chair? You said you would and you didn’t! I hate you! You’re just an old drunk and I hate you!” “What the hell is wrong with you? What did you go and break her chair for?”īaby Bear roared right back at him. Papa Bear roared so loudly that the windows rattled. One leg flew off and the back split in two. ![]() “It’s horrible porridge and not a bit like hers and I’m not sitting in her horrible chair ever again!” And with that, he flung himself at Mama Bear’s chair, kicking and biting for all he was worth. “Get your arse back in it and eat your supper.” He waded his bottom out of its squashy depths and leapt to the floor. It still smelt faintly of her and it was all wrong for him. Suddenly he felt very angry with Mama Bear’s chair. His chewing and gulping filled the silence and threatened to spill over the edges.īaby Bear pushed his bowl away. Papa Bear went on shovelling porridge into his mouth and washing it down with huge draughts of mead. And lumpy.”īut all Baby Bear could think of was the just-right porridge Mama Bear used to cook, and relinquished his spoon to paw away the tears leaking from his eyes. “Nonshensh,” came the gruff reply around a sludgy mouthful. He slammed a full tankard down beside his own bowl and sank his enormous haunches into his rock-hard chair.īaby Bear reached up to poke at the stuff in his bowl with his spoon. ![]() Something lumpy and steaming slopped into the bowl from a ladle that dribbled more lumpy, steaming something onto the table as it retreated. His bowl clattered down inches from his face and he jumped. He was big enough to not need to climb up into it anymore, but he sank so far into its too-soft depths that he ended up chin-level with the table. Now, his small round ears drooping, he trudged to Mama Bear’s chair. When he got bigger, he preferred sitting in his own just-right chair, as long as it was next to hers, and she would smile at him with her warm brown eyes as they ate their porridge. When he was smaller, he would clamber up into her lap, and they would have a cuddle. It was a big, plushy thing that Mama Bear would always sink down into with a contented sigh. Papa Bear had promised to fix it up, but he hadn’t done it yet.īaby Bear looked even more sadly at the only chair available to him. It had been broken by that lump of a Goldilocks who’d sat in it to gobble up his nice dinner. There was a hole where the seat used to be, and one of its legs was cracked. One dreary suppertime, Baby Bear looked sadly at the ruins of his chair lying in a corner of the room. Papa Bear and Baby Bear continued living in the cottage, but it seemed to grow a little shabbier each day. But late one summer, poor Mama Bear got sick and died. In the middle of the woods stood a cottage that had, once upon a time, been home to three contented bears.
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