Back In The Old House

We grew up, I didn't want to keep seeing pics of children,
because we can, as though we can't go on without them;
we don't all have - so respect those of us who don't,
our prerogative, much as we love them, as is our wont.

They'd all been here, running around, even you and I,
there were paper planes that wouldn't fly and then you'd cry,
splodgy food around your mouth, chocolate in the hair,
when you were shouted at, it didn't matter, you didn't care.

We'd jump up and down, only 'her' there, parents in town,
'Did they behave well?' Yes okay, not too bad on their own,
although one did a pee on the rug, alright when given a hug,
then after admonition, gave the other one's hair a terrible tug.

The voices came and went, past echoes just like before,
thought of little devils made me smile as I closed the door.