Frank: Where's the whipped cream?
Debra: Marie, please try to understand.
Marie: I understand. You prefer to give your children to gypsies instead of me.
Frank: Cheer up, Marie, we just dodged three screaming bullets. Hey, did he take the pudding? Hey! Pudding! [exits]
Marie: Oh, I know what it is. It's your father, isn't it? Now, listen to me. If you were to... God forbid, and I get the children, I'm willing to leave him.