Mrs. Kim: We must think like a baby. Anything that can be grabbed with little baby hands must be put up high or locked away in cupboards.
Zach: How'd she get in?
Mrs. Kim: Who couldn't get in? Hiding a key under the mat is like hosting a burglars-only open house.
Lane: Mama, we're gonna baby-proof the apartment, but we've still got like months.
Mrs. Kim: Of course, the drum kit has to go into storage, and you must throw away all of these.
Zach: My guitar picks?
Mrs. Kim: To you, they are guitar picks. To a baby, they are candy waiting to be choked on.
Zach: That's true. One time, I was tuning to an open "e" and holding a pick between my teeth, and Brian made this really funny sound, and I snorted a laugh, so the pick went shooting to the back of my throat.