For the first time I invited my family over for Easter and not the other way around. At one point my father asked to use the bathroom, emerging later to ask how long my toilet seat had been damaged. Umm, two minutes? Dad is not a lilliputian. He complained that the seat was of, pardon, crappy quality because it was made of pressed wood. I replied that his crappy butt was made out of pressed bacon. He went out and bought me a new seat.