Lillian: Good morning, sweetie. Don't worry about the bus. I'll take you once I finish these brownies for your class party. [to Vivian] Girl, I was hotter than fish grease. We didn't speak the whole night, and here he come this morning with his ol' "You okay, baby?"
Dean: Who's that? Daddy?
[Vivian sighs and hands Dean the chocolate-covered whisk to lick]
Lillian: But maybe he's right. Maybe I need to turn down this promotion and support my husband and family.
Vivian: Lillian, if Cliff would've got this opportunity, he wouldn't even included me in the discussion. He just would've told me he made the final decision and then tell me how much money I could spend.
Lillian: Oh, Viv.
Vivian: Oh, no, I'm not complaining. It's the system we have. I like it. I agreed to it. But what I'm saying is when I do feel some type of way about it, I like to look at you.
Lillian: Really?
Vivian: Oh, girl, please. Now, don't be acting like you ain't the Miss Boss Lady clacking and clacking around here with your work outfits and your lunch breaks and your typewriter, using your white girl voice. "Alabama State Treasury Department." [Lillian laughs]
Dean: I've heard her use that voice before.
[Lillian sighs and pushes the mixing bowl of chocolate towards Dean]
Vivian: Now, listen, you deserve to go as far as the Good Lord will let you. And I'm-a keep watching. Oh, no, Lil, you know you're wrong to send him to school all hopped up on that sugar like that.
Lillian: That's his teacher's problem, not mine.