Sheldon: Mom, would you write a note for me?
Mary: Sure.
Missy: You have the coolest excuse. You almost died. Did you see Jesus?
Sheldon: I saw Count Chocula. But feel free to mention my brush with death in the note.

Mary: Why aren't you eating?
Sheldon: I don't think I can.
George: Sometimes the different foods touch each other, Sheldon. Not the end of the world.

Dr. Goetsch: Welcome. You must be the Cooper family.
Mary: We are.
Dr. Goetsch: Right on, right on. This must be Sheldon. Put 'er there.
Sheldon: No, thank you.
Dr. Goetsch: Right on, right on.

Mary: He's nine years old and he's in high school, so you can't judge him like other kids.
Dr. Goetsch: I hear ya.
Mary: George, tell him about how he's always going on and on about subatomic particles and such.
George: Oh, he'll get to gabbin' about it.

Adult Sheldon: I didn't have to read many comic books to understand that every superhero had a weakness, something they had to overcome through an extraordinary act of courage. For Cyclops, it was the loss of Jean Grey. For Rogue, it was human touch. For me, it was food that required chewing. So if I truly was a mutant, I would have to do the same. On this day, I would not be defeated. Because this was the day I became The Chewer.

Sheldon: I've never been late to school before.
Missy: I'm late all the time. It's no big deal.
Mary: I get you to school on time every day. Why are you late?
Missy: I have a lot of people to say hi to in the morning.

George: You're actually cutting the crust off before you blend it?
Mary: I left it on his tuna sandwich yesterday, he said he could tell. Only drank half of it.

Missy: I came this close to having my own room.

Adult Sheldon: To further complicate matters, in any real-life crisis, my family's default mode is mindless panic.
Missy: Sheldon's gonna die! Sheldon's gonna die!

Adult Sheldon: It's interesting the things you think about when life is ebbing from your body. For instance, linoleum. What is it, really? Plastic? And if so, how is it different from Formica?

Adult Sheldon: My mother and father saw that I'd been traumatized and were patient and understanding about my fear of eating solid foods. This lasted one more day.

George: Oh, come on. You can't blame yourself. This isn't gonna last. Remember the time a bee got in the house and he slept under a net for a couple months?

Mary: What's he drinking?
Meemaw: Pork chop and gravy. I snuck some broccoli in there, too. Shh.

Mary: Well, I don't know what else to do. I suggested that we take him to some kind of professional, but you said he'd outgrow it.
Meemaw: Well, if you're looking for a psychiatrist, I bet my new fella's related to one.

Adult Sheldon: My mother managed to locate a family psychiatrist within our price range. No one seemed to be bothered that he had a coupon in The Pennysaver.