Lavernia: You disgust me. You better run home to Mama, so she can kiss your tears away and make you cocoa and tell you- [Francis punches back]
Francis: For your information, my mother's a tormenting control freak. It would never occur to her to make me cocoa!

Malcolm: You can't call that a short cut! A shortcut has to be shorter!
Reese: Says who?!
Malcolm: Says the word!
Reese: No, a shortcut is just when you don't use regular streets.
Malcolm: So, according to you, if it took 150 years to cross the street, just as long as you went through some bushes and trees, that would qualify as a short cut?!
Reese: God, you hate being wrong.

[After Malcolm and Reese jump out of their beds fully-dressed at 11pm, Reese holds a hand mirror under the bedroom door.]
Malcolm: Booby trapped?
Reese: A broom handle tied to a string of tin cans. A classic.
Malcolm: You know, if Mom ever trusted us, I think she'd be pleasantly surprised.
[Malcolm and Reese put decoys in their beds to make it look like they're sleeping]
Reese: Yeah. We're basically good kids.