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: He's just doing it out of spite.

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

George: I thought you didn't like taking the Lord's name in vain?
Mary: Oh, shut up.
George: It's been a while, huh?
Mary: Don't blame me. You're the one who had a heart attack.
George: Mm, the doctor did say I needed to get more exercise.
Mary: I think he meant walks around the block.
George: No, he winked at me, and did this little rotation with his hips.

George: Hey, we got any plans this weekend?
Mary: I thought maybe we could get started on the vegetable garden, and then, of course, church on Sunday.
George: Yeah, that does sound fun, but what if, instead, I was to go up to Bethy Creek with Georgie and do some fishing?
Mary: How long you been waiting to spring that on me?
George: Well, not till I was done rotating my hips.
Mary: You're awful.

Mary: Who says you have to take him fishing? Find something else to do with him. Something he'd like.
George: What are we gonna do? Spend the weekend sitting around, thinking?

Mary: George, you have to make an effort. Young boys who don't spend time with their daddies grow up to be oddballs.
George: Honey, I hate to tell you, but that ball is already pretty odd.

George: So, Sheldon, me and Georgie are gonna take a little road trip this weekend, see the shuttle launch.
Georgie: Looks like I don't get a vote in this.
George: Oh, good, you're catching on.

Mary: Okay, let's talk about food.
George: No need to. He likes his meat cooked to at least 165 degrees, except for chicken which is 180. The different foods can't touch each other on the plate. Ketchup and mustard must come out of a packet. No bottles.
Mary: What about his issues with spaghetti?
George: That's a trick question. He likes spaghetti.

Mary: What's going on?
George: I can't find Sheldon.
Mary: What do you mean, you can't find him?
George: I mean I don't know where he is.
Mary: Well, he's got to be somewhere.
George: Maybe he got that time machine to work.

Sheldon: This is a terrible driving game.
George: Is it roadkill if it's still twitchin'?

Sheldon: Huh, both alive and dead, just like Schrodinger's cat.
George: I didn't know he had a cat.
Sheldon: You've heard of Schrodinger?
George: Sure. It's the kid from Charlie Brown who plays the piano. Lucy's got a crush on him.

George: Sheldon, do me a favor. Go help your brother study for his math test tomorrow.
Sheldon: Is that really a good use of my time?
George: Come on. I'm asking nice. If he doesn't pass, he won't be able to play football.
Sheldon: You realize he's often mean to me.
George: So? Your mother's mean to me. I still try to be helpful.

Sheldon: Dad!
George: I'll make it $40! Keep going!

Mary: I didn't write this.
George: You sure? Looks like your handwriting. It's got that little swoopy thing going on.
Mary: I didn't write it. And I think I'd know if my son had a hernia.
George: So what, Sheldon forged a letter to get out of P.E.?
Mary: Looks like it.
George: How about that.
Mary: Don't be proud of him.
George: Can't help it. First time he ever seemed like my kid.

Mary: We already looked into private school. We can't afford it.
George: Not unless you're giving me a raise.
Principal Petersen: I'm not.
George: Okay, just checking.