Brea: Wait, yours says "Beverly Goldberg."
Murray: Ah, that's probably just a typo. Whoo-hoo! We did it, Bevy! They're in college! Now they're society's problem.
Adam: I'm supposed to go to NYU as her?
Murray: Oh, look at Mr. Big Pants here. Too good to go to college as his mom.
Adam: How would that even work?
Murray: We'll Tootsie you. Bevy, get me a sparkling red dress, some curlers, and a bucket of makeup.

Adam: I need answers. Why does NYU think I'm you?
Beverly: Surprise! I applied to NYU and got in. Yay! Dreams do come true.
Adam: Do they? Do they?!
Beverly: I mean, did I want to spend the next four years with my baby as his best friend/study buddy? Of course I did. Did I think it would actually happen? Of course, again.
Murray: And you thought this was a good idea?
Beverly: What I was thinking is that he shouldn't go to his dream school without his dream girl.
Brea: I'm gonna go.
Adam: Run. I would, too, if I didn't have exercise-related asthma.
Beverly: See you around the student union, fellow Bobcat. Roar!

Adult Adam: [v.o.] Back in the '80s, high school was a tricky place for me. I didn't always enjoy the acceptance of my classmates, or the teachers, or the principal, or the building. But I had applied to my dream school with my dream girl, and our envelopes from NYU had arrived.
Brea: Nervous?
Adam: No. I'm cool as a cucumber that's been hot-brined and barrel-aged for maximum flavor. I'm your special pickle, baby.
Brea: Just part of the charm of sharing this moment with your family instead of my own.
Beverly: Pish-posh, Brea. Your mother's divorced. She's got bigger fish to fry.