Malcolm: What are you talking about? I can play music if I want to.
Lois: I'm sorry, honey, you can't. Your brain doesn't work that way. You don't have that kind of creative spark.
Malcolm: What?
Lois: See, Dewey is a flyer. He'll just drift and float through life, and things will turn out for him. Now, you and I, we're burrowers. We're at our best when our heads are down, and we're grinding through a mountain of drudgery.
Malcolm: You don't know that.
Lois: Yes, I do.
Malcolm: You actually think you know what I'd be good at before I even try it?!
Lois: That's right.
Malcolm: Oh, really? Then tell me, how would I be at scuba diving, or mountain climbing, or Flamenco dancing.
Lois: Bad at scuba diving, good at mountain climbing. Flamenco dancing, a disaster. I'm not trying to hurt your feelings, I'm just telling you what I know.
Malcolm: It's a good thing you weren't John Lennon's mother!
Lois: If I were John Lennon's mother, he'd still be alive.