Barry: You know what? Let's start with a clothing makeover.
Pop-Pop: What's the matter with these?
Barry: They're hideous! Time to raid your closet.
Adult Adam: [v.o.] Unfortunately, Pop-Pop's closet wasn't a treasure trove.
Adam: I didn't even know they made so many browns.
Pop-Pop: Technically, uh, the one on the end is russet, and, uh, that guy is Yukon gold, and the fancy one is yam.
Barry: They're all named after potatoes, the least sexy vegetable?
Pop-Pop: Everyone likes a potato. It's a versatile tuber.
Barry: You're a tuber.

Linda Schwartz: This is just Thanksgiving dinner.
Joanne: Cool.
Erica: What did you do?
Beverly: Oh, this? Well, it's just a light offering of some coincidentally seasonal dishes.
Erica: I'm looking at five gravy boats.
Beverly: The stuffing, mashed potatoes, cornbread, and turkey have to drown in something, Erica.

Mr. Glascott: I brought a candle. I see that it's unlit in the corner and someone's placed some mail on top of it, but that's fine.

Geoff: How is this bird somehow bigger than the first?
Beverly: I always have a backup. Um, this was Wishbone. Spirited fella. The last seconds of his life were chaotic.

Adult Adam: [v.o.] As my mom's big night stole the spotlight from Linda, Pop-Pop was about to put on a show of his own.
Barry: Joyce is gonna love your new look.
Pop-Pop: What have you done to my hair? I look like that Italian fella on that show with the leather jacket and the thumbs.
Barry: Exactly. An elderly Fonzie.
Pop-Pop: And what's with this sweater? Sophia Loren couldn't fill this out.
Adam: It was my mom's, but don't worry. The tag says "unisex." [accordion wheezing] You look good. Fine. Different. You're gonna be great.

Beverly: We're here. Linda, I have to say, I am so glad you are hosting this year. Also, Murray will not be able to attend. Something about Thanksgiving being yesterday.
Mr. Glascott: Yep. Bev's bird did me in, too. I slept for 12 hours last night, instead of my usual 11.

Beverly: Linda, is this true? Have you decided that it is appropriate for you to be addressed as such by the fruit of my womb?
Linda Schwartz: Oh, Beverly. You misheard. I'm pretty sure she said "ma'am." You said "ma'am," didn't you, Erica? Tell her you said "ma'am."
Erica: Nope, I called you "Mom," Mom. And that, Mom, is what I will call you from now on, Mom.
Beverly: Geoffrey, when your mother gets back, call me "Mom."
Geoff: Finally. Mom. Or Mommy? Mama? Ma? Mammy? Momo?
Beverly: Forget it. You make everything weird.

Lou Schwartz: Okay, everyone. It's time.
Mr. Glascott: Time for what? More drama?
Lou Schwartz: For touch football in the yard. It's our family tradition.
Beverly: I'd like to play.
Linda Schwartz: Just so you're clear, it's "touch."
Beverly: Just so you're clear, I don't give a [bleep].

Linda Schwartz: Ahh! I-It's heavy!
Geoff: I'll help you, Mama.
Linda Schwartz: Giblet juice! Oh, it's dripping in my moccasins.
Geoff: Tilt that hole up!

Pop-Pop: Okay, you scamps. Cool it. I just popped over to pick up my tennis racket I left here. I have to retrieve it.
Barry: What, to shake at the neighborhood kids as they joyfully ride their bikes by?
Pop-Pop: No, to play tennis. Joyce and I are gonna knock a few around. [Adam and Barry laugh]
Joyce: What's so funny?
Barry: This guy? Tennis? This guy?
Pop-Pop: I'll just get my ball-whacker so we can go.