Sheldon: You know, one of the books mentioned a Vietnamese martial art.
Tam: Vovinam. I'm a blue belt.
Sheldon: Wow.
Tam: Don't be impressed. It's what you get when your mom buys the uniform.
Sheldon: Do you remember any of it?
Tam: I don't even know where the belt is.

Mary: You smoke marijuana?
Sheldon: Mom!
Libby: No, ma'am.
Tam: Just say no. [Mary shoots him an unimpressed look]

Tam: Look at this, my mother left me a note. "You can do better. Mom." Not "Love, Mom," not "XO, Mom," just "Mom."

Tam: Spending the Thanksgiving weekend working in my family's convenience store, I observed my father and mother working from 6:00 in the morning till 10:00 at night. My hypothesis was that economic advancement for immigrant families is more important than celebrating a holiday where people eat until they pass out in front of the TV.
Mr. Givens: All right, Tam. Well, based on your observations and hypothesis, were you able to make a prediction?
Tam: Yes. At some point, my father would die prematurely from stress. And my mother will come live with me, where she will constantly disapprove of my hot, blonde, American wife.
Mr. Givens: Okay. Uh, I think we all learned something there. Uh, thank you, Tam.

George: The little Sparks girl?
Mary: You're kidding. She seems so sweet.
Georgie: He says she slaps him around, takes his lunch money. She even put a tadpole down his shirt.
Meemaw: Poor kid. He tucks in those shirts.

Adult Sheldon: Existing in a world of predators isn't easy, but we prey have developed several natural defenses to help us survive. There's playing dead, warning calls, camouflage, and, last but certainly not least, good old-fashioned running away. A little screaming never hurts either.

Mary: She looks harmless.
Meemaw: She's cute. So she probably gets away with stuff. I'm like that.