We Need to Discuss Goldilocks—Because She Was Quite the Jerk

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As I sat there, my arm awkwardly draped over the bedrail while holding my daughter’s hand to help her drift off to sleep, I couldn’t help but reflect on Goldilocks. (Yes, we’re those parents. We totally messed up, and now she’s three and needs our hands for comfort at bedtime. If we have another kid, I’m just going to toss them a blanket and a water bottle and wish them luck as I dash out the door.) This led me to ponder: who does Goldilocks think she is?

Picture this: Mama Bear is likely spending her Saturday slaving away over a hot stove, preparing breakfast while Papa Bear and Baby Bear are busy scattering Legos all over the living room. If she doesn’t whip up something delicious, who will? Then, when the porridge is too hot, Mama Bear has to take them out for a stroll to cool it down. Enter Goldilocks.

Is she a wild child? Quite the contrary. From every illustration I’ve seen, she has perfect ringlets, no frizz, and is dressed in a lovely blue frock that looks like it came straight from the Stella McCartney Kids collection. Where are Goldilocks’s parents? Off globe-trotting while the nanny scrolls through her phone, contemplating quitting her job. Meanwhile, Goldilocks wanders into the woods, stumbles upon a cottage, and decides, “This looks good. I’ll take it.”

Talk about privilege, right? Without any understanding of basic safety—like not entering strangers’ homes—Goldilocks just waltzes inside. She spots porridge on the table and digs in. Seriously, what child sees a bowl of porridge and can’t resist? It’s not like it’s pizza or chocolate cake. She’s so rude that she takes a bite from each bowl until she finds one that she deems acceptable for her high standards and finishes it all.

Next, she wreaks havoc in the living room. Papa Bear’s chair? Too fast for her liking. What does that even mean? It’s clear she knows how to rock a chair slowly once she moves on to Mama Bear’s, only to declare that it’s too slow. Eventually, she finds Baby Bear’s chair—just right for her appetite for destruction, which she promptly breaks apart.

So, let’s recap: this kid thinks it’s perfectly fine to enter a strange home, help herself to food, and mess with their belongings. I already can’t stand her.

Now, she’s upstairs and, apparently, all that breaking and entering has worn her out, so she decides to take a nap. But surprise! The Bear family’s mattresses are not to her liking. She jumps up from Papa Bear’s bed in disgust, finds Mama Bear’s bed too soft, and finally discovers Baby Bear’s bed is “just right.” Because nothing says relaxation like napping in the bed of a baby bear deep in the woods, where no one can hear you scream.

When the Bear family returns home, Mama Bear is probably already annoyed, and then she has to deal with this mess? Breakfast ruined, furniture destroyed, and then they discover someone has been sleeping in their beds. Goldilocks bolts out of the house without a care, leaving the Bear family to clean up her mess. No consequences for her actions. How unfair.

Wouldn’t a better ending be if the Bear family walked in and, upon seeing Goldilocks, decided to have her for dinner? Here’s why that makes sense:

1. The circle of life (yes, I know bears don’t typically eat people, but they would surely defend their territory).
2. It teaches kids valuable lessons: don’t enter strange homes, don’t touch what isn’t yours, and if your mom serves you food, don’t complain about it—otherwise, a rich girl might come in, break your chair, and then where will you sit while waiting for dinner?

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In summary, Goldilocks was not just an innocent child; she was a wild invader with no regard for the Bear family’s home or belongings. Her actions left chaos in her wake, and it’s about time we recognize her for the troublemaker she truly was.