Dr. Eberland: Okay. Well, keep him off spicy foods for the time being, and I'll write you a prescription for Zantac. Does he smoke?
Mary: 'Course not. He's nine.
Dr. Eberland: [chuckles] I started at his age. Uh, but only when I drank.

Dr. Eberland: Sheldon, you have nothing to worry about. Even if you did get the flu, it's usually over in a week.
Sheldon: Why are we getting medical advice from a man who smokes?
Mary: Sheldon.
Dr. Eberland: O-Okay, I have patients who are actually sick. Maybe we should wrap this up.
Sheldon: How come you don't get sick all the time?
Dr. Eberland: Well, I take precautions. I wash my hands, I wear gloves and a mask.

Mary: Thank you for seeing us, Doctor.
Dr. Eberland: No problem. So, what do you got today, Sheldon? Rickets? Rabies? Early-onset menopause?
Sheldon: Is he making a joke?
Mary: I believe so.
Sheldon: Humorous.

George Sr.: Damn it. I've had enough of this. Sheldon, get up.
Sheldon: What's the point?
George Sr.: We're going to Houston.
Sheldon: Really?
George Sr.: Yeah. You and me are gonna give those space monkeys a little talkin' to.
Adult Sheldon: I often found my father to be a strange and puzzling man, but at that moment, I never loved him more.

Adult Sheldon: People often wonder why I chose to pursue a career in theoretical physics. I usually respond by saying I wanted to unravel the inner workings of the universe. But the real answer was I wanted to prove this nincompoop wrong.

George Jr.: Are you dyin'?
Meemaw: We're all dyin', honey. From the second we're born, it's just a slip and slide into the darkness.
George Jr.: Unless you get bit by a vampire.
Meemaw: Well, now that goes without saying.