Nora: Mom! Jethro's eating my underwear! Here, piggy, piggy, piggy. Jethro.
Ian: Mom, before she starts, there isn't a shred of evidence to support her allegations.
Farren: Gillian, your son is a psycho. He booby-trapped my hair dryer.
Ian: Nice hypothesis, but you can't prove it.
Farren: Yeah, but I can hurt you. Mom! Mom! She needs to be medicated.
Nora: Come on, Jethro. Come here.
Farren: I hate this family. Come here.
Nora: Jethro, you're getting a time out.
Gillian: Come on, guys. Backpack.
Farren: What? It's in style.
Gillian: It's inappropriate. Go put on some jeans. And spit out the gum. So, what color do you want to wear today? Red? Blue? Purple?
Nora: Pink, Momma, pink.
Farren: What? You said jeans.
Gillian: I meant in your size. Come on, guys. Come on. We don't want to be late. There you go. Come on, sweetie.
Farren: No! Get out!
Gillian: No fighting.
Bob: Allow me.
Gillian: Hi. Are we still on for dinner?
Bob: I'll be there.
Gillian: We have an audience.
Farren: Yuck. I'm going to vomit.
Ian: He is such a loser.
Nora: I like Bob. He's nice.
Farren: He's a boring pen importer. He does the same routine every day. He's like a robot.
Ian: That's 'cause he is a robot. A cyborg, sent from the future, to destroy humanity. Starting with us.
Gillian: Well, it's been three months. Happy anniversary. What is it?
Bob: I have to tell you about my job. This might shock you, but you should know everything before this relationship goes further.
Gillian: Don't, Bob.
Gillian: I'm very happy when I'm with you. No one has ever made me laugh like you do, and if I were a single woman, I could see a real future for us. But I'm a package deal.
Bob: What do you mean?
Gillian: My kids are my priority and... How can I put this gently?
Bob: They hate me.
Bob: I can make them like me. See?
Gillian: See? You can't make kids like you, not mine or anyone's. My kids have been through a lot, and... I don't think we should take the next step until they warm up to you.
Bob: Doesn't your happiness count? Excuse me. Sorry, I gotta go. Emergency at work.
Gillian: No ink?
Bob: It's much bigger. Sorry, really. I will explain everything tomorrow.
Gillian: Okay. I'll see you tomorrow.