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.

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.

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.

George Jr.: I think the saddest part about it is just how sad it is.

Adult Sheldon: As you can see, my meemaw successfully lured me back into the world by reminding me of my brave Texas ancestors. Their blood ran through my veins. I was a true son of the Lone Star State. Albeit a true son with an incredibly fragile immune system. I woke up the next morning with a temperature of 102 and a head packed full of mucus.

Meemaw: Mind if I take a crack at catching the Road Runner?
Mary: What are you gonna do that I couldn't do?
Meemaw: Oh, a little trick I learned trying to get prairie dogs out of the hole. Of course we'd whack off their heads with a golf club. I'm not gonna do that to Sheldon.