When we were kids, we moved into this great old house in this sweet little town where my sister and I had to share a room (this was before we regularly went apeshit on each other) and our room shared a wall with my parents' room. Due to some serious lack of thought on their part, our room also shared a wall with the headboard of their bed.
At breakfast one morning after about a week of unpacking and adjusting things 'just so', my sister announced that we had ghosts.
My dad asked her why she thought we had ghosts and she explained that she heard them screaming 'Oh God' last night again and they must really want to get into heaven and maybe we should help them.
I'd never seen my dad's face turn that shade of red before.
It's inevitable when you have kids that at some point they will hear something. You can only hope that the lock is strong enough that they won't actually see anything.
One night, I opened our door to get some water only to find one of our niblets standing there. Just staring at me.
"What are you guys doing?"
"Um.... watching a movie."
I'm not sure if this is a postive endorsement of our sex lives that the sound of it could be compared to 'Gladiator' or maybe just a little frightening.
But it still beats having ghosts.