Erica: The song isn't hip and I'm tired of singing it every year.
Beverly: Fine. Then you go in and tell your grandfather and break his sweet heart. He lives for that Hanukkah solo. If you don't sing it, you'll literally kill that poor old man.
Erica: I knew you'd say that.
Beverly: Way to kill your grandfather and Hanukkah, Erica.

Beverly: So, you'll sing it.
Erica: Nope. And if you have a problem with that, then you can just ask Barry to do it.
Beverly: Barry? Please.
Barry: Just heard my name. What am I not supposed to be hearing? Surprise party? Award show? Surprise award show party?
Beverly: Honey, if I told you, it wouldn't be a surprise, would it?
Barry: Damn it. That logic checks out. Well, I'm gonna go find my tuxedo T-shirt for no reason and be back around 6:00, wink, wink.

Beverly: Hey, hey, Suzie Cinoman. How's the number-one music and interpretive-dance teacher in Montgomery County?
Ms. Cinoman: What's gonna happen to me right now?
Beverly: Well, all that's happening right now is that this blondie brought you some blondies. I even sprinkled some cinnamon on top. It's us in dessert form.
Ms. Cinoman: That's very nice. I'm just, um, gonna go ahead and open this door to make sure that people know I'm okay.
Beverly: Oh, come on. Everything's just peachy. Here. Have a bite of us. Go on. Put it in your face. Yum, yum.
Ms. Cinoman: Mm. Mmm! I guess we are friends now.
Beverly: Best friends. And while you're chewing on that, chew on this, you're gonna give Erica a solo or it's your ass.
Ms. Cinoman: I knew it! These blondies aren't just sprinkled with cinnamon, they're sprinkled with deceit.

Beverly: Kids, there's no need to fight over who's gonna write the perfect Hanukkah song. Although Barry does seem to want it more.
Barry: Yes! Barry wins. In your face!
Erica: You're just trying to pit us against each other so I write you a song out of spite. It won't work.
Barry: [mockingly] You're just trying to pit us against each other so meow, meow, meow, meow.
Erica: Idiot, you're playing into her plan.
Barry: Meow, meow, meow, meow, meow, meow, meow. [Normal voice] You're a cat, basically. "Meow, meow, meow, meow. I'm Garfield. I love lasagna!"
Erica: Ugh. You're so stupid! Fine! I will write a better song than you with my eyes closed.

Erica: [singing and playing piano] Oh, yeah Hanu, Ha-Ha-Hanu Hanukkah I'm a-wishin' I'm-a wishin' A happy Hanukkah to you A happy Hanukkah to you Happy Hanukkah, dear everyone Happy Hanukkah to you.
Ms. Cinoman: Yeah, that's the birthday song.
Barry: Not fair, cheater.
Ms. Cinoman: I can't use that song. I will have to pay those old ladies hundreds of thousands of dollars, and I've already spent our entire budget on construction paper for the snowflakes.

Beverly: How could you let this happen, Erica? All you had to do was write a timeless classic that would last for ages.
Barry: I got you covered, Mom. JTP, drop the beat. [Rapping] How did Hanukkah start, you all wonder Judah Maccabee, dinosaur hunter He came to Earth from outer space He hunted dinos For eight straight days!

Ms. Cinoman: While I really do appreciate the effort even though, uh, one song was plagiarized and the other one was factually insane-
Barry: You are insane. I added dinosaurs to a holiday about lamps. It's called spicing it up.
Ms. Cinoman: Look, the "Dreidel" song was our only option and, truthfully, none of this was worth the hassle.
Beverly: You can't do this to me! To Pops. This is about him.
Ms. Cinoman: Not my problem. The "Dreidel" song is cut.
Barry: But I have more sick rhymes about a dreideldactyl and menorahsaurus. They're dino-Hanukkah hybrids who break-dance and fight crime.

Pops: Hey. I got something big to show Adam. Where is he?
Murray: Upstairs. He said he was gonna tear down his movie posters now that his whole world has gone to crap. Blah, blah, blah. I was making a sandwich.
Pops: What? Why didn't you stop him?
Murray: Stop him? I told him this was about time. This happens to everybody. It just took him a few years longer.
Pops: Having unreasonable, childlike wonder is what makes Adam Adam. It's what I love about the boy.
Murray: I guess from now on, Adam isn't Adam. We'll call him Gary.
Pops: Who the hell's Gary?
Murray: Gary's the kid in Adam's class who's really good at baseball and rides the moped. Ah, Gary.
So normal. So good at shortstop.

Pops: I'm gonna show Adam that there's still plenty of wonder left in this world, and you'll have to get off your tuchas to stop me.
Murray: Eh. Well played, old man. Well played.

Pops: Kiddo, you're coming with me. I got something fantastic you're guaranteed to love.
Adam: I'm good.
Pops: Well, imagine if they made a movie with your favorite moving-picture maker, George Lucas.
Adam: The Great Bearded One?
Pops: And what if Mr. Lucas then cast that foxy Lea Thompson from "Back in the Future"?
Adam: I'm slightly listening.
Pops: And what if I told you this very movie was from the writer of "Indiana Jones"?
Adam: I'm an adult now. I know it's simply not possible.
Pops: And yet it is, and it's playing at the Hiway Theater. If this movie can't restore your faith in dreaming, then nothing will.