Answer:
Send poorly behaved children to me and let them sit here.
I contain five little items of an everyday sort. You can find all five in a tennis court.
I am in truth a yellow fork from tables in the sky by inadvertent fingers dropped the awful cutlery. Of mansions never quite disclosed and never quite concealed the apparatus of the dark to ignorance revealed.
I belong to you but others use me more often than you do. What am I?
Die without me, never thank me. Walk right through me, never feel me. Always watching, never speaking. Always lurking, never seen. What am I?
What did the piece of wood say when he saw the screwdriver and screws approaching?