Reese: What's Grandma doing here?!
Malcolm: You never said Grandma was coming!
Lois: Oh, I didn't? Ah, well, then, it's just a nice surprise for you boys. Remember last month when you came in after curfew and you said, "What are you going to do about it?" Sorry it took me so long to get back to you.

Reese: Grandma, Malcolm doesn't want to play anymore. So I guess I win by forfeit.
Ida: What?! You cannot become a man by forfeit. You must go through all the trials. You must win every one.
Reese: But they're your rules. Can't you just change them?
Ida: These are not my rules. These are the ways of our people. The ways cannot die.
Malcolm: Yes, they can. They should. They should be murdered and mashed up and dumped down a salt mine along with nuclear waste and left there to fester and rot in a toxic pool of its own filth!
Ida: Your pretty words don't hide your fear.
Malcolm: What?!
Ida: You are afraid of the next trial because it is a test of intelligence. You are afraid to find out who is really the smart one in the family. He goes around with his nose in a book, sucking in facts. He doesn't have what we have. You and I have street smarts.
Malcolm: Oh, here we go. Every moron who's willing to act like a criminal is loaded with street smarts. Well, let me tell you something, Grandma, you're either smart or you're not. Saying you have street smarts just means you're willing to do things that smart, sensitive people are too decent to do. That's not a sign of intelligence. [Ida is silent] It's not. It's not!

Ida: This is the final test. The game of Vishnok will show us who has the brains around here.
Reese: Grandma, how do we play?
Ida: Shh! You will listen! The rabbits run to their lair. The moon embraces you. The horse turns to lead. The apple holds the key. You have two minutes.
Reese: What are we doing?
Malcolm: I don't know. Did you feel this?
Reese: What?
[As Reese sticks his hands through the two holes in the board, the holes tighten around his arms]
Malcolm: The rabbits run to their lair.
[As Reese's head is pulled down towards the board, the wooden "moon" extends behind his neck.]
Malcolm: The moon embraces you. The horse turns to lead.
[Malcolm hooks Reese's nose with the horse figure. As Reese screams, Malcolm sticks the apple in his mouth. Malcolm then pushes down on Reese's head, forcing him to bite into the apple and reveal the key]
Malcolm: The apple holds the key. Ha! I beat him! It's over! [Ida mutters in Russian] The marriage is off. After 2,000 years your ways are dead.
Ida: I am content the ways have been followed.
Malcolm: What?! No. No, you don't get to pretend you're okay with this. I never followed your ways. Well, I did, but it was for a different reason...

Hal: Okay, listen, they're not likely to do another Patrick Swayze festival for four, maybe five years, so I'm counting on you to tape the whole thing.

Ida: In our country, after a boy turns 16, he becomes a barochi. We watch this boy for one year. Then, when he is ready, he is plucked from his mother's teat and thrown into the town square, where he must battle with the other boys for dominance.
Malcolm: Wait, up until this point, they're still breast feeding?
Ida: It keeps families close. The boys fight each other with all their might. When it is over, the one left standing is the man. The rest are dronska. Then more breasts are offered to the proud young man. But these are not the withered spigots of the mother, no. These are the ripe, inviting pleasure domes of the virgins of the village, presented dripping with wine.
Reese: Our family comes from the coolest country in the world.
Ida: And it must continue, Reese. You must carry on with this ritual.
Malcolm: Grandma, this is not only moronic, it's impossible. For one thing, there is no village full of boys for Reese to fight.
Ida: No, we will have to make do. The closest thing we have to a boy is you.
Malcolm: What?
Ida: You shall be the rock on which his knife is sharpened. There will be contests of strength and endurance. When he defeats you, he shall be a man.
Malcolm: What if I defeat him? [Reese and Ida laugh]

[As Lois, Hal and Dewey stand in the long TSA line, Dewey is holding a novelty license plate reading "Dirk"]
Dewey: Well, Dad, this makes it all worth it.
Hal: They never have "Dewey"s.

TSA Agent: Ma'am, we need you to get back in line.
Lois: We're just trying to get in the empty one.
TSA Agent: That line is for first class and commodores club passengers only.
Lois: Excuse me?
Dewey: Mom, we need to make this flight.
Lois: So, this airport's policy is that increased security should only inconvenience poor people?
TSA Agent: I don't make the rules, ma'am.
Lois: No, no one makes the rules. Why would anyone want to take responsibility?

Male TSA Agent: Ma'am, step over here, please.
Lois: [sighs] I know what it is. It's the underwire on my bra. It always sets these things off.
Male TSA Agent: You seem to have something under your shirt.
Lois: Yes, as I said, I have a bra on under my shirt, and there is an underwire in my bra.
Male TSA Agent: [over radio] Code 25.
Lois: I can't believe this is the first underwire to come through this place. Surely you people have encountered bras before. This is punishment for what I said about the first-class line, isn't it?
Female TSA Agent: Ma'am, I need to touch your breasts.
Lois: You need to touch my what?!
Female TSA Agent: I'm required to probe with the back of my hand. If you like, you can request up to two female witnesses.
Lois: Let me understand this. Because I made a comment about first class, I am being singled out for a public feel-up?
Dewey: Oh for God's sake, Mom, just let her touch your boobs!
Male TSA Agent: The kid makes a lot of sense, ma'am. Now, do you want to do this the easy way or the hard way?

Lois: Well, the redness is going down. I think you can compete just fine.
Dewey: Why don't you just cut the act, Mom? You got what you wanted.
Lois: What are you talking about?
Dewey: You don't like watching me be successful, because it reminds you that you never did anything with your life. And now, instead of taking joy in your kids' accomplishments, you undermine us so we won't show you up. Maybe it's unconscious, maybe you know you're doing it, but that's what's been going on this whole trip.
Lois: So what?
Dewey: Huh?
Lois: You think you're the first kid in the world whose parents ever sabotaged him? Please, Dewey, parents undermine their children all the time.
Hal: My dad told me I would never amount to anything and live a life of hardship and constant disappointment.
Dewey: Wait. We're talking about Mom.
Lois: Well, you shouldn't be. This is your life. Crap flies at you. You got to learn to deal with it. Besides, which story would you rather tell? The one where you show up at a contest, play something and get a prize, or the one where your family torpedoes you and even though you are crippled and blind, you still come through to win first place?
Dewey: I guess the second one's a better story.
Lois: Of course it is.

Dewey: For the love of God! We should have left for the airport nine minutes ago!
Malcolm: [to camera] Dewey's in this big-deal piano competition in St. Louis this weekend. It's being held at a huge, fancy hotel. Prominent musicians from all around the world are going to be there. And the best part is, Reese and I don't have to go.
Reese: This is unbelievable! She's leaving us alone in the house for the whole weekend! She's losing it!
Malcolm: Shh. Don't remind her. Be cool.