A far more accurate account of the events on 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.

Mummy Bear puts her head through the servery hatch from the kitchen and yells, “For Goodness sake, how many times do I have to go through this, you idiots?

It was Mummy Bear who got up first. It was Mummy Bear who made the coffee. It was Mummy Bear who unloaded the  dishwasher from last night and put everything away.  It was Mummy Bear who swept the floor in the  kitchen. It was Mummy Bear who went out in the cold early morning air to fetch the newspaper. It was Mummy Bear who set the damn table. It was Mummy Bear who walked the bloody dog, cleaned the cat's litter tray, gave them their food, and refilled their water bowls. And now that you've decided to drag your sorry bear-arses downstairs and grace Mummy Bear with your grumpy presence, listen carefully, because I'm only going to say this  once....I HAVEN'T MADE THE FUC#ING PORRIDGE YET  !”