The True Story of Goldilocks

Once upon a time Goldilocks lived on a farm at the edge of a deep, dark forest. She was a very good girl who always finished her chores by suppertime.

One morning when she came down for breakfast, the house was empty and the larder was bare. On the counter a note said: Back by dark. Scrub the floors, chop the wood, mow the lawn and plant an acre of potatoes. Do not go into the deep, dark forest where dangerous animals lurk.

Just then delicious aroma of buttery, sugary, nutty porridge wafted from the deep, dark forest.

“The heck with the chores.” She set off to follow the aroma into the woods.

Golden sunlight streamed down through the leaves. Overhead the birds sang.

Goldilocks sang, too, as she skipped along. When she came to an open meadow where the grass was green as emeralds, a turquoise lake sparkled and beside the lake stood a cottage with a red door. Flowers waved in the window boxes. A swing hung from the big tree beside a bee hive.

The front door was slightly ajar.

Hello?” she called politely.

Pushing the door open she entered a cozy living room. The delicious aroma was stronger now.

“Anybody home?” Ah, those three chairs. She slid right off the big leather Barcalounger and almost drowned in the deep cushions of the second chair.

But the baby chair just fit and now she could see three bowls on the kitchen table.

“Ouch,” she yelped and put the spoon back into the biggest bowl. The porridge in the second bowl was cold and hard.

Of course the third bowl was just right. She felt her strength restored.

“If I ate this every day I could work ten times as hard.”

She ate it all up and rinsed the bowl. Very sleepy she went up the stairs and tried the first bed but it was too high. The second bed was too soft and the third bed, as we know, was exactly right. In a moment Goldilocks was sound asleep.

The three bears came home and saw front door was open.

“Uh oh,” growled Papa Bear. “Has someone been sitting in my chair?”

Mama Bear saw that one of her chair cushions was on the floor.

Baby Bear examined his chair. “Somebody sat in MY chair and moved it one inch.”

“Who ate a spoonful of my porridge!” said Papa Bear angrily.

“Some one tried mine,” said Mama Bear thoughtfully.

“Who’s eaten my porridge ALL UP?” said Baby Bear. “Look, they even rinsed the bowl.

“Someone was tidy,” Mama Bear smiled.

They trooped upstairs.

“Nobody’s in my bed,” Papa Bear said.

“Nor mine,” Mama Bear said.

“She’s in MY bed!” Baby Bear cried.

Papa Bear stretched out his claws.

“Put those away, it’s just a girl,” Mama Bear said.

“Hey, wake up!” Baby Bear said.

Goldilocks opened her eyes to see three dangerous animals looking down on her. Exactly what her parents had warned about.

“A nice-looking girl,” said Mama Bear tenderly.

“Would she like to play with the bees?” asked Baby Bear eagerly.

“Probably not,” said Mama Bear.

“You know,” said Papa Bear. “It would be lovely to have a girl in the house. Let’s keep her.”

Mama Bear gave his paw a tender squeeze. “You old softie,” she said. “But she might have her own parents.”

Goldilocks sat up and yawned.

“What pretty little teeth,” Baby Bear noticed.

“She’s awfully thin,” Mama Bear noticed. “But not for a human.”

“Humans know how to read and write,” Papa Bear said. “She could teach us.” He went off to look for a pencil.

Goldilocks stood up. “I’m awfully sorry. I just couldn’t help myself.”

“My porridge does that,” Mama Bear said. “And it makes us strong.”

Goldilocks agreed. “May I have the recipe?”

“Certainly,” said Mama Bear. She gently straightened Goldilock’s braids. “Such long, yellow fur. Come down to the kitchen and I’ll show you how I make it.

First Mama Bear made a big pot of porridge while Goldilocks wrote down the recipe. Then Goldilocks taught them how to read and write. They were thrilled.

“Now I can sell our honey in the market,” Papa Bear said. “We’ll be rich.”

“Now I can write my cookbook,” Mama Bear said. “I’ll have my own TV show.”

“Now I can go to college,” Baby Bear said. “Then play professional hockey.”

When they were finished, Goldilocks thanked them. Goodbye, they said, giving her bear hugs. Fortified by the wonderful porridge she did every single chore on the list and planted twenty acres of potatoes before her parents returned

“You were wrong about the forest,” she said. “The wild beasts were nice to me. And their porridge gave me the strength of ten.”

Goldilocks made it every morning so they could work ten times as hard. Papa Bear got rich selling honey and Mama Bear got her own show. Sure enough, Baby Bear plays for the Bruins.

Here's the recipe for Paula Bear's Ten Times Stronger Porridge:

Simmer oatmeal in grandmother’s good pot. When it’s thick and hot, give yourself a big helping in a blue and white bowl. Add cream from your prettiest cow and a dollop of good butter from the churn. Swirl in a tablespoon or two of dark brown sugar. If you have berries, add them. A teeny pinch of salt on top brings all the delicious flavors together.
GRRREAT!