Beverly: Murray, no. Our babies can't live in a van. They could get snatched by a kidnapper, who wouldn't need a creepy van because he's being conveniently provided with one.

Erica: I only have sixty bucks. How much you got?
Barry: I'd have to move some stuff around, but roughly twelve hundred.
Erica: Dollars? How?
Barry: Basically, you've inherited dad's stubbornness, and I inherited his cheapness. You see, every day for lunch mom gives me two dollars. I spend twenty-five cents on chocolate milk, and eat food scraps off friends' plates and random tables.

Erica: You use comedy as a defense mechanism, but that doesn't make you a funny person that people laugh with. It makes you a lame-o who people laugh at.

Beverly: Erica, please. There might be lightning outside.
Erica: Good. I would rather get struck by a bolt of red hot sky fire than cave to his stupid will.

Murray: You were supposed to back me up, Bevvy. And that doesn't mean bringing the boy dinner. Dear Lord, what did he do to that corn?

Beverly: Well, I'm sick of this, Murray. Adam was right, I have failed as a mother. Literally. Our children are van people.

Pops: Go to your room! [later:] I'm sorry I yelled and punished you.
Adam: Yeah, I hadn't seen that side of you before.
Pops: I just don't understand how you could say those things about Old Mother Hubbard. That's her dog, they're friends.

Barry: Momma?
Beverly: It's me, love bug. What are you doing out here?
Barry: Eating tuna and getting ready to use the potty bush. I hate being van people.

Beverly: Even though I did make Cobbler Ala Mode for dessert tonight.
Barry: Oh, that's French talk for pie and ice cream.

Barry: Erica wins. She called me the TV character I like.