Tim: Enough. I don't want to hear another word out of you guys. Sit down.You really did it.
Jill: I just wanna thank you, boys, for the most embarrassing night of my life. We are the only family in 12 years to have been kicked out of Wacky Jack's Pizza Pagoda.
Tim: It takes a lot of work to get kicked out of a restaurant that has a trampoline and a batting cage.
Randy: But Dad...
Tim: No buts. That's it.
Brad: It was Wacky Jack's fault. He was making those stupid faces at us.
Jill: He's a clown. That's his job.
Brad: We didn't do anything.
Tim: [mocking] "We didn't do anything." Does this look familiar? Wacky Jack's nose. You pulled it right off his face.
Randy: It's not his real nose.
Tim: I don't care whose nose it is. Don't pull things off people's faces. Hey, you know what you guys are gonna do? You're gonna take this nose, you're gonna put it in an envelope, you're gonna sign a little apology note and send it back to Wacky Jack.

Tim: Little baboons. Where do they learn this stuff?
Jill: Possibly from the big baboon.
Tim: [inquisitive grunt]
Jill: Yes, you. You encourage their bad behavior.
Tim: I don't encourage bad behavior.
Jill: Oh, yeah? Tonight, when Brad spit his chewing gum across into that plant, you cheered.
Tim: Jill, that was a 10, 12-foot arc, easy. Right into a six-inch pot, man. Michael Jordan couldn't have made that shot, huh? And I did tell him to stop, too.
Jill: Oh, yeah. After you gave him a standing ovation. I may be wrong but I think that's sending a mixed signal.

Tim: What do you want me to do?
Jill: I want this family get through a meal without the boys throwing their food, or gargling their milk or talking about boogers.
Tim: A meal without boogers. Hmm?
Jill: Yeah, see? Never gonna happen.

Jill: Honey, what is this? What are you... Where are you going?
Mark: Brad and Randy threw my mattress out the window.
Tim: That's it. I'm coming up there.
Jill: Honey, honey, honey. You don't have to sleep outside.

Jill: I don't mean to criticize, but is this where you want to put the napkins?
Tim: No. I want it in the proper spot. Let's see. There you go.
Jill: That was right in the first place.
Tim: [growls] Hey!

Tim: You don't really think I can do this, do you?
Jill: I didn't say that, Tim.
Tim: Come on. You don't really think I can do it. Say the words. Say it. Say it. Say it.
Jill: Sweetheart, I just think that you cannot teach that which you do not know.
Tim: Really?
Jill: Really.
Tim: I'll have you know that that which you think I do not know is that which I know.

Tim: We're not gonna talk snot tonight. You're gonna come down the stairs like little princes. Sit down, clean and washed up. And look around and say: "Good evening, Mother."
Randy: Mom's not here.
Tim: Pretend she's here.
Mark: I'll be Mommy.
Tim: No, you won't. Don't be Mommy. That scares me when you say stuff like that.

Tim: You guys gotta help me out. You gotta help me out. Let's take care of this. If we don't do this right, I'm gonna spend the next year at the opera. [Brad and Randy scream] All right, focus, focus, focus. Eating is not just a necessity, it's a job. And like any job, you need the proper tools. These are the tools of the trade: fork, knife, weaker sister, the spoon. Help me, help me, help me. Almost useless, crude instruments by themselves. But together, they form the mealtime triad of power. [grunts] [the boys grunt]
Jill: Tim, I hate to interrupt this gruntfest. But dinner is less than two hours away.
Tim: Thanks for reminding me, pookie.
Jill: You're welcome.

Tim: Control. Control. Control. That's it. You guys now... We do exactly as Dad does. Listen up. Sit up straight. Sit up straight. Straight. Sit up straight. Elbows off the table, Randy. Randy, elbows.. Stop that.
Randy: Stop that.
Tim: Stop that.
Brad: Stop that.
Boys: [chant] Stop that. Stop that. Stop that. Stop that.
Tim: Enough, enough, enough.
Boys: [chant] Stop that, that's enough. Stop that, that's enough. Stop that, that's enough.
Tim: Don't repeat me.
Boys: [chant] Stop that, that's enough, don't repeat me. Stop that, that's enough, don't repeat me. Stop that, that's enough, don't repeat me. [opera music plays] Stop that, that's enough, don't repeat me. Stop that, that's enough, don't repeat me. Stop that, that's enough, don't repeat me. Stop that, that's enough, don't repeat me.

Tim: Enough, enough, enough, guys. Your mom wants one quiet meal and I'm gonna give it to her if I have to duct tape you yard apes to those chairs, quiet.
Randy: OK. We'll do whatever you want tonight. Can we go now?
Tim: No, no, you can't go now. Because I'm gonna tell you something. I know the reason why you guys get nuts at the dinner table. Because you don't have an intimate relationship with your food. You don't respect what you're eating. You're not getting this. Let me show you what I mean. Hm. This is the chicken we're having for dinner tonight.
Randy: Oh, yuck. That looks gross.
Tim: That's exactly my point. This bird gave its life so you could eat. You should thank the bird.
Randy: Dad, have you lost it?
Tim: You're just missing it. It... You don't get it. It... It's simple. You guys would lose your mealtime aggression if you had to hunt it and kill it yourselves. Hm. Tell you what. I'll be the chicken. You be the mighty hunters. Stalk, hunt me, kill the chicken. [clucks] What a wonderful day to be a chicken and alive. Oh, God, it's hunters. I'd better run. Flee. Run, flee. So they couldn't catch me, flee. Run. Stalk, hunt, kill me. Run.
Brad: Kill the chicken.