My nephew was about 5 or 6 and was visiting our house. During dinner he proclaimed he had to use the bathroom, so off he went. After about ten minutes or so, he hadn't come out. I had finished eating so I knocked on the door to remind him his food was getting cold and asked if he was coming out soon.
"Don't come in here!" he stridently proclaimed. Since I could hear noises that did not sound like he was just sitting there waiting for things to happen, I knocked again and asked him if everything was O.K.
"Don't come in here!" again. More sounds.
I went in. He started screaming "Don't come in here! Don't come in here!" as soon as he heard the doorknob turning.
Scene: pants around his ankles, a plunger fixed in his little hands, the sink was running full blast, the toilet was edging toward overflowing the rim with what appeared to be about 8000 sheets of toilet paper roiling around.
Ever since in my family "Don't come in here!" is invoked, usually in falsetto, whenever you've screwed up big-time and are about to be busted. Somehow it seemed like an apropos title for my various rants.
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