Back when I was a teenager (~25 years ago), I had the worst time waking up every morning for school. My dad would have to come drag me out of bed, then I would be sitting in the shower dozing for a while before I actually started cleaning myself. Like, literally sitting - I would sit on the edge of the tub while in the shower and just slip in and out of consciousness for a little bit until I was awake enough to shower.
Of course, this made me run late every morning. My dad always poked his head into the bathroom to yell at me that I'm going to miss my school bus if I don't hurry up. I rarely ever missed the bus, but I also barely caught it most days, which always made my dad anxious about my morning routine.
As a healthy young teenager, I always had morning wood that wouldn't quit. I had gotten used to it, so getting ready in the mornings with a raging boner wasn't unusual. But I was generally pretty good at keeping it hidden from others until it went away.
One particular morning, I had gone through my shower-sleep routine and finally got around to cleaning myself. I had lathered up my entire body with soap and was scrubbing all the cracks and crevices thoroughly (I was a bit OCD when it came to cleanliness).
This day, my dad had finally had enough and decided to see what took me so long in the shower every day. Out of nowhere, he whipped open the shower curtain and opened his mouth to yell at me.
I was standing there, frozen in shock, both hands gripping my soapy raging boner. My dad glanced down, then back up at my face, then gave me the goofiest smile I'd ever seen him make. Then he wordlessly shut the shower curtain and walked away.
It took me a minute to realize why he changed his mind about yelling at me; it didn't process at first what the situation he walked into looked like. I was just washing my body, after all.
My dad never again yelled at me to hurry up in the shower.