Erica: Look, it's Barry's baby helmet.
Barry: No! I thought we gave that back to the institute.
Erica: You were so cute with your little flat head. I used to rest my Kool-Aid on you. Oh my gosh, it's a picture of you all helmeted up. This is gonna look great in the year book.

Murray: What the hell is this?
Pops: You said Adam drew a potato family.
Murray: Not actual potatoes. Potato shaped. And what are they doing on a farm?
Pops: Where else would a potato family live?

Murray: It's supposed to say babby. I love you babby!
Pops: What the hell is a babby?
Murray: I'm the babby!

Erica: Aww, is pudgy little Adam still too scared to make poo-poos now?

Beverly: No, no, Gabe. This will be a strictly cash transaction. No paper trail that way.
Gabe: Uh, that's kinda weird, but okay.
Beverly: See, I had all these pieces of my kids in these boxes, and somebody tried to take them away from me. We can't have that, can we, Gabe?

Barry: I always knew one day a good thing would happen to me. And that day is now.

Barry: Don't steeple your fingers. I'm steepling mine. We can't both do it.

Adam: If anybody should be steepling it should be me. Your fingers are weird!
Barry: What? No they're not. What are you talking about? How's that weird?
Adam: How can you say that with a straight face?
Barry: I don't think it's that weird, man.
Adam: They're like witches fingers!

Beverly: How do you not feel anything?
Murray: I'll tell you how, and it's simple. Our children are not talented.

Beverly: It's not crap. Every box is filled with priceless family memories. Each one more valuable than the next.