George Sr.: I'll be right back.
George Jr.: Mind if I have a sip of your beer?
George Sr.: You mind if I dip your head in the compost heap?
George Jr.: You could have just said no.

George Jr.: What are you doing?
George Sr.: [GASPS] Nothing! Get out of here.
George Jr.: You're looking for her brisket recipe.
George Sr.: All of a sudden you got smart? I said get out of here.

George Sr.: I might make it this weekend.
Mary: Or you could try a vegetable.
George Sr.: Vegetable? That's funny.

George Sr.: Yeah, I don't mean to be rude, but we've been waitin' for an hour to see your boss.
Mrs. Veazey: I'm sorry, sir, but you didn't have an appointment.
George Sr.: We didn't have an appointment 'cause every time I called, you put me on hold.

Sheldon: Dad?
George Sr.: Yeah?
Sheldon: Thank you.
George Sr.: You're welcome.

Dr. Eberland: Um, Radio Shack?
Mary: He's trying to figure out how to help NASA land rockets.
Dr. Eberland: Oh. Well, that's a nice thing.
George Sr.: He's just doing it out of spite.

Missy: Mom.
Mary: What?
Missy: There's something wrong with Sheldon again.
Sheldon: I figured it out! I figured it out!
George Sr.: One night. I want to sleep one night.

George Sr.: Go!
Sheldon: And you're surprised I have an ulcer.
George Sr.: I'm surprised I don't have one.

George Sr.: It's late. What are you doing up?
Sheldon: I'm working on the hyperbolic calculations for a rocket return.
George Sr.: Need any help?
Sheldon: What?
George Sr.: I'm kiddin'.

George Sr.: Hey. Got to go pick up some equipment for the team; you want to join me?
George Jr.: Can't. I'm grounded.
George Sr.: Yeah, well I won't tell if you won't.
George Jr.: Sheldon going?
George Sr.: That little snitch? Absolutely not.
George Jr.: Sheldon still gonna help you with the math?
George Sr.: I don't think so. But I did hear his little Asian friend can do it.

Mary: I hope that doesn't wake up the kids.
George Sr.: Should I go over there and say something?
Mary: I think you should.
George Sr.: I was bluffin'. Don't make me put my socks back on.

Mary: I feel bad about yelling at Georgie.
George Sr.: He deserved it. You should do it more.

George Sr.: It's solar-powered. Can you imagine that?

George Sr.: Let's go for it.
Assistant Coach Wilkins: Why? We got plenty of time.
George Sr.: I know. Still want to go for it.
Assistant Coach Wilkins: We're on the 12-yard line. Everybody know you punt.
George Sr.: Why does everybody knowing something make it right?

George Sr.: Remind me to tell you about the tax refund I got from the IRS.

Dr. Goetsch: You'd be surprised how many children have food phobias.
Mary: Is that so?
Dr. Goetsch: Oh, yeah. When I was Sheldon's age, I was afraid of that weird skin on top of puddin'.
George Sr.: Really? Me, too. You know, you put a little Saran Wrap on-
Mary: George!

Mary: I think we should call the police.
George Sr.: We don't need the police. We'll find him.
Mary: This is all my fault. He ran away because we took him to a therapist.
George Sr.: That's $15 we ain't getting back.

George Sr.: And Sheldon's fine. You know what he's like. If someone took him, I'm sure they'll bring him right back.

George Sr.: "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 Sr.: Oh, he'll get to gabbin' about it.