Tim: Spaghetti sauce smells terrific.
Jill: Thank you. Honey, um, this breadstick is too long for the bread basket. Could you break that with your head?
Tim: I think I can handle that.
Jill: Focus.
Tim: I can handle it. [mumbles psuedo-Japanese] Hyah!

Mark: They won't let me play football with them.
Tim: Still?
Jill: Guys, how many times do we have to tell you? Let your brother play.
Randy: We were just about to put him in the game when everyone had to go home.
Brad: Yeah, that's right.
Mark: Oh, you guys are lying.
Jill: Hey, hey, let me handle this. You guys are lying.

Tim: Stop doing that stuff. What's the matter with you guys?
Brad: Dad, he's a huge geek.
Jill: That is enough. Now listen, the next time he wants to play, include him.
Brad: Yeah. Well, Dad, he's always running out of bounds. He's chicken.
Tim: He's not chicken. He just doesn't have a lot of self-confidence right now.
Randy: He's afraid of getting hit.
Jill: Well, you know, just tell the other guys that he has some kind of horrible rash and they shouldn't touch him.

Robert Cho: Tim?
Tim: Yeah?
Robert Cho: Having a muscle spasm?
Tim: No, I was working some karate moves.
Robert Cho: Oh, is that what that was?

Jill: Look at that. He's got his fists clenched so tight his little knuckles are turning white. Couldn't he... loosen that up some?
Tim: Oh, yeah. Loose fist makes a very effective weapon. That's how come boxers always come together with the referee. "All right, guys. Come out slapping." "Take that, you big mean man. Take that, take that."
Jill: Stop it.

Jill: [to Tim] He does look real cute doing this. Well, I don't know. Maybe karate's not so bad after all. It seems pretty harmless. I really should get home and start dinner. I'll see you later. See you later. Bye. [walks off]
Robert Cho: Come together. Now we're gonna do some free fighting. Push back.
Jill: [returns] Free fighting? What is that?
Tim: It's just a term.
Jill: So is "cracked fibula."

Jill: I don't think so. It's pommel horse time.
Tim: Come on. Sit down. These are the experienced... The advanced class. Mark won't be able to kill anybody till he's or 10 or 11.
Jill: Oh, that's comforting.

Jill: Hey, this isn't fair. That kid's way bigger than Mark.
Tim: Shh.
Daphne: All right, Artie. Get ready to kick some butt, huh?
Tim: Boy, there's a mom you could love, huh?

Daphne: Artie, grind him up, huh?
Jill: Excuse me. Ma'am, um... I don't think you should be encouraging your child in this sort of behavior.
Daphne: What are you talking about?
Jill: Well, he just slapped my boy.
Daphne: It's karate class. That's what it's all about.
Jill: No. Slapping is not what it is all about.

Jill: I can't believe it. I am so ashamed that I got into a fight with that woman.
Tim: You were just trying to protect our son.
Jill: Well, it was the karate class. How can you not be violent when everybody around you is going... hey-ha, ho, ya-ya!