Frankie: Well, it's official. I'm a crappy mom.
Mike: Does this mean Sunday's off?
Frankie: I'm serious, Mike. I was talking to Sue, and I'd asked her if there was anything different she'd do when she had kids...
Mike: Why do you go looking for trouble?
Frankie: And she said she'd be more organized. [sighs] And do you blame her? I mean, when you're auditioning for Cabaret with only one character shoe 'cause your mom forgot to put the other shoe in your bag, who do you think's gonna get the part? The girl with the good mom, not Sue.
Mike: Maybe it made her stronger?
Frankie: [scoffs] That's B.S., and you know it. Look at this drawer. Yep, this is the kind of mother I am. Oh, silverware, panty liners, stamps, a roll of film... Oh, my Fitbit!
Mike: Frankie, it's the junk drawer.
Frankie: You know what? These aren't the junk drawers. This is the junk drawer. Yeah, happy Mother's Day, Frankie. You screwed up your kid, and that's something you'll have to live with for the rest of your life.
Mike: Hey, did you peek at the card we got you?