Tim: Never in my wildest dreams did I believe I could break Bob Vila's record.
Al: I believed in you.
Tim: Yeah?
Al: Oh, yeah. The minute I met you, I knew you could break anything.

Jill: Brad, put your napkin in your lap.
Tim: Mark, pass me the meat. Don't stick your finger in the gravy, please.
Jill: Now, we're going to go around the table and find out how everybody's doing. Randy, put something green on your plate.
Randy: I did. It's the meatloaf.
Jill: Very funny.

Jill: Look, guys, come on, there must be something you want to share, something you're looking forward to.
Mark: Well, I'm really looking forward to going to the air show with Dad next Sunday.
Tim: Nothing better for a father and son than all day sucking on corn dogs and breathing toxic jet fumes. Yeah!
Randy: Gosh, Dad, you make it sound so appealing.
Jill: Don't knock it. Your father and Mark look forward every year to sucking up those toxic fumes together.
Mark: This year the Blue Angels are performing.
Tim: That's right. You guys remember when the Blue Angels let me ride in the back of the airplane?
Brad: Yeah, they'll never forget it. They spent a week hosing it out.
Tim: You know what I read this year? They're going to bring an F-117 to simulate a bomb run.
Mark: Ooh. Are they dropping the Mark 54s or the Mavericks?
Tim: Both.
Mark: All right.
Jill: Isn't this great? Having a conversation just like a family.
Randy: Yeah, nothing brings a family together like bomb talk.