We Need To Talk About Goldilocks Because She Was Kind Of An A**hole

We Need To Talk About Goldilocks Because She Was Kind Of An A**hole

goldilocks

Image Source / iStock

My mind wandered as my arm tingled, awkwardly flung over a bedrail as it held my daughter’s hand while she fell asleep. (Yeah, we’re those parents, okay? We were new at things. We effed up and now she’s 3, and she can’t fall asleep unless she’s holding one of our hands in some sort of preschooler Chinese finger trap. If there’s a next kid, at bedtime I’m just throwing them in their bedroom with a blanket, a water bottle, and some good luck before I turn around, running as I close the door behind me.) This got me thinking about Goldilocks — specifically: Who the hell does that bitch think she is?

Mama Bear spends what I can only assume is her Saturday morning, slaving over a hot cauldron while Papa and Baby Bear are probably pouring Legos all over the living room, because if she doesn’t make breakfast, who will? Then they complain that it’s too hot, because of course they do. So Mama has to come up with something to entertain both her husband and child as it cools, so out for a quick stroll through the woods they go.

And then comes Goldilocks.

Is she a feral child? Based on every picture book I’ve ever seen, just the opposite in fact. Gorgeous ringlets without frizz, always pulled back by a headband. Eyelashes for days. A blue dress with tulle overlay that I’m fairly certain is from the Stella McCartney Kids line and was probably worn by Harper Beckham. Where the eff are Goldy’s parents? Good point. Traveling the world. The nanny was probably texting her bestie, reminding her that if it weren’t for the occasional awards show gift bags the mother sometimes tossed her way, she would sooo quit and put her liberal arts degree to work, and that’s when Goldy slipped off into the woods, came upon this cottage, and decided, “Yup. I like this. It’s mine now.”

Talk about white privilege, amiright?

So, apparently never having been taught the No. 1 basic rule of life — never go anywhere with strangers and/or enter a strange home — Goldilocks just goes on inside. She sees food on a table, and eats it. I have so many problems with this. First of all, what child sees a bowl of porridge and just simply cannot resist its tempting aroma? We aren’t talking pizza here. It’s not a chocolate cake. It’s porridge, people. And she’s so beyond rude that she begins taking bites from every bowl until, of course, she finds one that Her Majesty deems suitable for her sophisticated palate and eats it all.

Then, she moves on to destroy the living room. Papa Bear’s chair? Nuh uh. Way too fast, man. What’s that even mean? Because it’s pretty obvious that she knows how to rock a chair slowly once she moves on to Mama’s chair and complains that is too slow. After that, she decides Baby’s chair fits just right. You know what it fits? It fits her appetite for destruction because she smashes it to bits before she goes upstairs.

So, to recap, not only does this kid think its okay to enter a strange home in the woods, but she also thinks its okay to just eat the food you find inside and then to touch all of the stuff you find. I hate her so much already.

So she’s upstairs and all of this breaking and entering is exhausting so she’s decided to nap. But it turns out that the Bear Family does not purchase their mattresses from the same store as her family. She lies down on Papa’s bed and leaps back up out of disgust. Might as well have just lay down on the floor. She lies down on Mama’s bed, and it’s way too soft. Sorry, but Goldilocks isn’t about to have her spine out of alignment, thankyouverymuch. But Baby Bear’s bed — ah, yes. Now that bed is juuuuust right. I don’t know about you, but nothing can kick my REM cycle into gear quite like relaxing in the bed of a tiny baby bear, deep in the woods, where nobody can hear me scream.

So, the Bear family comes home while Goldilocks is sleeping upstairs. At this point, Mama Bear is no doubt already annoyed with her family, and it’s not even lunchtime yet. Then she walks into her house and has to deal with this shit?

Breakfast is ruined. Their only furniture? Destroyed. Then they walk upstairs and find out somebody has been sleeping in their beds. Goldilocks jumps up and just runs out of the house, never to be seen by the Bear family again. Zero consequences for her. The Bear Family (so, let’s just say it: Mama Bear) is left to deal with the ramifications of her morning of bad choices.

You know what would be a much more satisfying ending? If the Bear family walks into the bedroom, sees Goldilocks, and eats her. And I’ll tell you why:

1. The circle of life. (Okay, I know bears don’t eat people. I’m not a bearologist, but I bet they probably defend their home at least.)

2. This teaches kids several valuable life lessons. Don’t enter strange homes. Don’t touch shit that’s not yours. And if your mother puts food in front of you, don’t complain that it’s too hot/too cold/too porridge-y, or a rich, white girl might come into your house, break your only rocking chair, and then where are you going to sit while you wait and whine as your mom cooks your dinner?