Wants Haunt

My parents are babysitting my kids, tickling chance, washing out underwear skids.  The riot has gone quiet.  My wife and I occupy separate floors to catch up with reality's revolving doors.  Raising kids is just something to do, without the foresight to benefit from this clue.  You assume life is boring when you have kids, only because convenience skids.  Life is boring and miserable, because time doesn't schedule your need's speeds.  Children need their wants.  Wants haunt.