“Grrr, someone’s been sleeping in my bed.”
“Oh dear, someone’s been sleeping in my bed.”
“And someone’s been sleeping in my bed... and there she is right now!”
“And they ate her!” you cried jubilantly from under the bedcovers.
“No, they did not,” Rosely asserted authoritatively.
“Cors they did. They’re bears, aren’t they? All bears eat people. They caught her and they gobbled her guts and crunched her bones.”
“Don’t be horrible! Not all bears eat people.”
“Cors they do.”
“What about koalas?” she said with a superior toss of her long yellow curls.
“Oh. So they were koalas then—these bears.”
“Must have been—cos they didn’t eat her.”
She was five years older, bossy of course, and always far too smart for you.
“They don’t look like koalas,” you said uncertainly, judging only from a glimpse at the pictures before she pulled the book away.
“Look, I won’t read to you if you’re going to interrupt all the time.”
You fell silent, but you never allayed your suspicion that Goldilocks got out of the situation far too easily.