Meemaw: I bowled a new high score last night.
George: Nice.
Meemaw: I got two turkeys.
Missy: What's a turkey?
Meemaw: It's three strikes in a row.
Missy: Why do they call it a turkey?
Meemaw: Well, when they first invented bowling, they used to just throw frozen turkeys at the pins. Eventually, they switched to balls to cut down on the smell.
George: Why you lying to her?
Meemaw: I find it keeps my mind sharp.

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

Sheldon: There's going to be a lecture on carbon dating at the Natural Science Museum on Saturday. Who would like to take me?
George: You know what? I'd be happy to.
Meemaw: What happened to helping me at my yard sale?
George: Ooh, is that this Saturday? I'm sorry. I'm taking him to a lecture on, uh what is it? Carbonation?
Sheldon: Carbon dating. A method of determining the age of artifacts and fossils.
George: Hey, we could use that to figure out how old your grandma is.
Sheldon: That won't work. You can't carbon-date something that's alive.
George: Well, then, we'll just chop her down and count the rings.
Meemaw: Oh, George, did my "lump of clay" remark strike a nerve?
George: A little.

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.

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.

Adult Sheldon: The perilous journey from the bus stop to my front door was 97.5 meters. FYI, insisting on using the metric system in East Texas is another reason I was hunted by predators.