Mary: What'd you say?
Meemaw: I said I'd have to think about it.
George Sr.: What's to think about?
Meemaw: Well, a lot. I mean, assuming he enjoys dinner, he might want a scoop of Meemaw for dessert.
Mary: Mom, the kids.
Meemaw: I said "dessert." Did you know I was talking about sex?
Sheldon: No.
Meemaw: See?

Sheldon: Do people know about this?
Meemaw: Sheldon, what's on a person's face is not always what's in their heart.
Sheldon: Well, this changes everything. How do you know who to trust?
Meemaw: You don't. That's what makes life interesting.

George Jr.: Hey, now that you're treating him like an adult, can I have his allowance?
George Sr.: That allowance is for chores, which you already don't do.
George Jr.: Come on. We all know I'm your favorite.
Meemaw: You're not even his third favorite.

Mary: Mom, can you make the salad?
Meemaw: Sure.
George Sr.: Hey, don't put in any of those little tomatoes.
Meemaw: Hey, I don't tell you how to impersonate a lump of clay. You don't tell me how to make a salad.

Adult Sheldon: Just like that, I overcame my fear of choking. All that was left was my fear of dogs, birds, insects, germs, hugging, button fly pants, rivers, ponds, lakes, oceans, estuaries, corduroy, root vegetables, squeaky balloons, tinted windows, take a penny, leave a penny, fireworks, potbelly stoves, dust bunnies, that fuzz on peaches.

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.: If we take him to a shrink, it feels like we're admitting something's wrong with him.
Mary: He hasn't had solid food in five weeks.
Meemaw: Well, if there is something wrong with him, it ain't constipation.