Mary: I think we should call the police.
George: 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: That's $15 we ain't getting back.

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

Georgie: A bill? Really?
George: Room and board, buddy.
Georgie: $50 a month for food?
George: The way you eat, I should've gone $50 a week.
Georgie: Laundry services?
George: Your poor mother has to touch your underwear.
Georgie: What's the $10 a month "peema" charge?
George: Oh, P-I-M-A, that's a "Pain in My Ass" tax. My way of getting compensated for you taking years off my life.

Georgie: You know what else is nice?
George: Hmm?
Georgie: I get to learn from all your parenting mistakes.
George: I'm starting to think letting you live this long was one of 'em.
Georgie: Like that. I'd never say something so awful to my kid. [George scoffs] Thanks, big guy.

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

George: 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.

Missy: Meemaw, are you gonna have any more babies?
Meemaw: Good Lord, no!
Georgie: She's too old to have any more babies.
Meemaw: Don't have to have 'em. You live long enough, your hair and your teeth start falling out, you start wetting the bed, you get to be one.
Georgie: [laughs] That's funny. We're gonna have to put a diaper on you.
Meemaw: You won't be laughing when you're doing it. I might be.