Tim: I could have used this to snoop on Brad. I would have realized that Randy was doing his homework and Mark was his maid.
Wilson: How did that come about?
Tim: He hired his brothers because he couldn't do the paper route and his schoolwork at the same time. It was too much work. If he had a problem, I wonder why he didn't come and tell me.
Wilson: Tim, it's hard for a boy to come to his father and expose his fallibility.
Tim: Oh, it's not like I haven't seen the kid in the shower before.

Brad: I'm really sorry, Dad. I know I got myself in deep, but I didn't even know how to get out of it.
Tim: It's all right, it's all right. A lot of it's my fault. I was pushing you to do this. I didn't even listen to you when you were telling me that you didn't want to.
Brad: I wanted to show you that I could handle it.
Tim: I'm reminded of what the great astronaut, Wally Cleaver, said... "You can't expect your son to do his homework and eat a foot-long hero without Prussian dressing."
Brad: What?

Tim: You know, son, the reason I was doing this, I got so into this, was because when I had a paper route it was really important to me.
Brad: How come?
Tim: It was the first job I had after my dad died. I had the job to show my mom I could shoulder some responsibility and not just be a goof-off like my brothers.
Brad: And I'm sure you didn't quit your first paper route.
Tim: No, I didn't.
Brad: See.
Tim: I was fired.
Brad: Why were you fired?
Tim: I was trying to make it fun and expedite it at the same time, you know, so I got a compressed-air gun that would shoot the papers. And I never got the telemetry down, which is the angle of attack... I'd get some... It'd go... I'd get 'em... I mean, I never got them anywhere near the damn porch. I would have made a lot more money if I knew how to repair a window back then, boy, I'll tell you.

Tim: These are our collections. 20... 40, 50, 55, 60.
Brad: I'm supposed to have 75.
Tim: You were docked for the windows you broke.
Brad: I didn't break any windows.
Tim: Technically, it was your bike, your route, done by somebody with your last name...
Brad: Dad.
Tim: I'm good for the $15. You also ran over a cat's tail and you were slapped silly by some old woman.

Marie: Jill, I gotta hand it to you. How do you find time to cook with your finals coming up?
Jill: Well, I did find this book - Five-Minute Meals for the Busy Woman. You should try the spaghetti sauce. Tell me what you think.
Marie: All right. [eats] Hm. Maybe if you throw the book in the pot, it might give it some flavor.
Jill: Oh, well. Tim and the boys will just have to put up with it until my finals are over with.
Tim: [enters] Hi, guys.
Jill: Oh, hi. Anyway, I just don't have time to do the cooking the way I usually do.
Tim: Now, there's some good news.
Jill: Wait till he sees the new book I got. Five-Minute Lovemaking.
Tim: What are we gonna do with the other three minutes?

Brad: Well, Barry talked to the newspaper, and they said if I want the job I can take it.
Tim: Great. There's nothing like a challenge to help someone mature.
Jill: Maybe we ought to get your father a paper route.

Jill: You're going to have be getting up at the crack of dawn when it's, like, seven below outside.
Brad: I can do it.
Tim: That's right. It's good to push him a little bit. Besides, getting up at five o'clock will put hair on your chest, which is why you don't see too many newspaper girls.

Tim: We've talked about giving the boys more responsibility. I think this falls in that category.
Jill: Well, OK. I have my doubts, but if that's the way you see it, Tim, all right.
Brad: All right.
Jill: Now, the minute that your schoolwork starts to suffer, the job is over.
Brad: It's a deal.
Tim: That's right. Well, I think I see a chest hair sprouting. Nope. Navel lint.

Marie: Hey, Jill. I know you're under the gun with your finals, so I made you some lasagna.
Jill: You cooked for me? That is so sweet.
Marie: I figured if I didn't, you might have a five-minute marriage.
Jill: I don't know how to thank you.
Marie: No, no, no. Don't worry about it. When you become a psychologist, you can give me a discount.
Jill: For you, three neuroses for the price of one.
Marie: Hmm. Then I just have to figure out what to do with my other 27 neuroses.

Marie: Hey, you know, Brad is doing really great with his job.
Jill: You know, I had my doubts, but it's going really well.
Marie: You're not kidding. His throw is so accurate, all I have to do is open the door and the paper hits Joe right in the head. Come to think of it, it saves me the trouble.