When I was training my brother for ranch duty, we were driving back from the ranch one afternoon and saw a station wagon with what appeared to be an entire milkshake glued to the side of the rear left quarter panel.
Pulling up next to the rear seat, two boy perfectly still and quiet with that "Oh shite!" look on their face.
Passing the front of the car, Mom had obviously blown her top and had enough, just starting to feel the guilt pangs of whatever screaming fit she'd had over the milkshake incident.