Frankie: [gasps] Babies! Where are the baby pictures? Where are the picture from eight years ago and before... Before they all went digital?
Sue: You lost those, too?!
Frankie: No, no, no, wait. I think I have them in a box somewhere. Like a-a knock-off Stride Rite box from when you kids were little. I think it was, like, Stride Mite, Stride Tite? Oh, my God, I haven't seen it in forever. We got to find that box! Okay, it's red or blue. Everybody, just start looking!
Mike: Really, Frankie? Are we really gonna do this now? It's Christmas Eve, and you're running around, making yourself a wreck over some pictures. Relax. Nobody's dead.
Frankie: Yes, they are! 15-year-old Sue is dead! She's gone, and we'll never set eyes on her again now. And what about 10-year-old Axl, when he was sweet and he liked me? He's gone, too. There were thousands of pictures, Mike... thousands!
Mike: Of this family?! Why?! I don't get it. It's like you're trying to archive for some museum that's never gonna be built. Unless you're a president or a serial killer, nobody cares!
Frankie: I care!