Once upon a time, in a cozy cottage at the edge of a green forest, lived a kind mother goat and her seven little kids. The cottage had a red roof, a stone chimney, and a sturdy wooden door that the mother goat always locked tightly before leaving home. “Remember, my dears,” she would say, “never open the door for anyone unless they give the secret password: ‘Sunshine and daisies!’” The little goats nodded eagerly, promising to stay safe.

One morning, the mother goat needed to visit the market. “Be good,” she said, kissing each kid on the forehead. “And don’t forget—only open the door if you hear the password!” The little goats waved goodbye, and the moment their mother left, they began playing games to pass the time.

But lurking nearby was a sly wolf with sharp teeth and a rumbling stomach. He had watched the cottage for days, waiting for a chance to trick the little goats. When he saw the mother goat leave, he crept to the door and knocked. Tap-tap-tap!

“Who’s there?” called the youngest kid, peeking through the keyhole.

The wolf deepened his voice. “It’s your mother, dear ones! I’m home early. Open the door!”

The second kid frowned. “But Mother’s voice is soft and sweet. Yours sounds rough and growly!”

The wolf hurried to the beehive by the river, dipped his paw into sticky honey, and swallowed a big spoonful. When he returned, his voice dripped like syrup. “Sweet little goats, it’s your mother! Let me in!”

The third kid squinted through the keyhole. “Wait! Mother’s paws are white as snow. Yours are black and muddy!”

Grumbling, the wolf scampered to the miller’s house. “Miller, dust my paws with flour!” he demanded. The miller, too frightened to refuse, covered the wolf’s paws in white powder.

Back at the cottage, the wolf knocked again. “Little ones, it’s me! ‘Sunshine and daisies!’”

The fourth kid gasped. “He knows the password!”

But the fifth kid, the cleverest of all, spotted a black tip poking through the flour on the wolf’s paw. “You’re not our mother! Go away!”

The wolf snarled and crashed through the door, sending the little goats scattering. Six of them hid—under the bed, inside the closet, beneath the rug—but the youngest, trembling behind the curtains, was caught. The wolf stuffed him into a sack and raced into the forest, planning to gobble him up later.

When the mother goat returned, her heart sank at the sight of the broken door. “Where are my children?” she cried. The six unharmed kids leaped out of their hiding spots and tearfully explained what had happened.

Determined to save her youngest, the mother goat handed each kid a lantern. “Follow me!” she said, leading them into the dark forest. They tracked the wolf’s footprints until they found him snoring under an oak tree, the sack beside him.

Silently, the mother goat untied the sack and freed her little kid. Then, she filled the sack with stones from the river. The wolf slept through it all, dreaming of a full belly.

At sunrise, the wolf stumbled to the river for a drink. But the stones weighed him down, and he tripped—splash!—into the water. He sank like a boulder, never to bother the goats again.

Back home, the mother goat hugged her seven kids tightly. “From now on,” she said, “we’ll add a new rule: If someone knocks, check their voice, paws, and tail!” The little goats giggled, relieved to be safe.

And so, the cottage by the forest stayed peaceful, filled with laughter and the clatter of seven little hooves. The end.

The moral of the story: Always listen to your parents, stay alert, and remember—cleverness and courage can outsmart even the trickiest foes. Sleep tight, little ones! ✨