Jill: How was the airplane museum?
Mark: The best. You should see what they have there, Mom.
Tim: A B-52 Stratofortress and our favorite, an F-102 Delta Dagger. And best of all, no piano.

Jill: [pulls clothes and underwear out of her piano] Brad! Randy!
Brad: Yeah, Mom?
Jill: How do you explain this?
Randy: We were, uh, looking for the hamper in the middle of the night and obviously we were a little off.
Jill: Am I that bad?
Brad: Let me put it this way. Have you ever seen us pick up our dirty laundry before?

Mark: How am I doing, Wilson?
Wilson: Very well. Especially for someone who's never taken a lesson. You have a natural aptitude.
Tim: He sure does. Hey, Mark, watch out for the skydiver by the crosswalk!

Wilson: How's it going back there, Jill?
Jill: Pretty good. It's not near as scary as I thought it would be.
Tim: Well, then perhaps you'd consider removing your fingernails from my thigh.
Jill: Sorry.

Tim: Boy, you can sure see a lot of stuff. Look, the Silverdome's ov...
Mark: Ah!
Tim: Whoops!
Wilson: Uh-oh.
Tim: What did I do?
Jill: "Whoops" is not a word I want to hear 2,000 feet up in the air. [engine stops] Oh, my God. Oh, my God. What's happening?
Wilson: Tim just hit the mixture control, which caused the engine to die.
Jill: "Die" is even worse that "whoops"!

Mrs. Kluzewski: What happened to focus, focus, focus?
Jill: It went out the window, window, window.
Mrs. Kluzewski: Jill, you were supposed to practice every day.
Jill: I tried, I tried! But my kids, they just kept stuffing their dirty laundry in my piano.
Mrs. Kluzewski: Laundry in the piano?
Jill: Yeah. Yeah.
Mrs. Kluzewski: Jill, if you weren't going to practice, you might have spent the time coming up with a better excuse.