Dean: So... what makes cupcakes taste so "down home"?
Lillian: Slavery. And bacon grease in the pan. But mainly slavery.

Kim: Mama, I've never seen that purse before! That's foxy! Eh, you know where my other skirt is? Not the plaid one. The green one with the buttons on the front.
Lillian: It's still in the hamper. You know where the laundry room is, right?
Bill: Baby, what time do you think dinner will be ready? Can you make stew? You make the best stew.
Dean: We just got home! Will you people give us a second? Please. And when I get back in here, these chores better be done. [scoffs] Man, the woman just walked through the door.

[Lillian picks up a copy of the bible with three condoms on top as she packs a box for Bruce]
Lillian: Lord, you know I am not ready to be a grandmother. About time, young man. Letter? [Dean tries to put a football in the box] No, see, that's not gonna fit.
Dean: Mom...
Lillian: Dean!
Dean: But I told him I'd send him something to play catch with his buddies!
Lillian: Well, he's at war, not summer camp.
Dean: Then why'd you pack him all those balloons?
Adult Dean: Obviously, I'd never seen condoms or balloons, apparently.

Lillian: I had to bake the cookies for Bruce's care package 'cause you didn't do it like I asked you to.
Kim: I'm still gonna make them.
Lillian: You were supposed to make them two days ago. They're already done. I'm headed to the post office now.
Kim: Per usual, I get nothing, and Bruce, the perfect first-born, gets everything. Maybe if I was fighting for the imperialistic, capitalist machine, a sister could get a skirt hemmed.
Lillian: Oh, sweetheart. It's "If I were fighting." "If I were." [clicks tongue] And you know where my sewing kit is. Hem it yourself.
Kim: But my hems are always crooked.
Lillian: That's why you need to practice.

Lillian: It says here you're gonna get a master's degree like me.
Dean: "Give out before you give up."
Adult Dean: My mom's words stuck with me. I taught the same thing to my kids. That look on Mama's face was like the look Daddy had when he'd heard I picked sax as my instrument for band.
Dean: Oh, and, sorry. I was playing with one of those balloons you put in there for Bruce.
Lillian: Balloons? In the little packets?
Dean: Yeah, it was hard to blow up at first, but then I finally got it. Then it popped.
Lillian: A-All right, go eat your breakfast.

Adult Dean: Before texts and e-mails, writing letters was the primary way for a 12-year-old to stay in contact with someone... that and a rotary phone with a cord that hopefully stretched into your bedroom. But I couldn't call my older brother Bruce, who was in Vietnam. I was good at writing, though, and letters were our special thing. He'd tell me about the people he'd met and the foods he was trying, and I'd tell him all about the exciting things in my life.
Dean: [writing] "And then I spit, and it went further than Cory's spit, so I won the bet!"
Adult Dean: Okay, so, my life wasn't as exciting as his, but that was always the case, because Bruce was great at everything: school, sports, spitting. My biggest wish was to one day be great at something.
Lillian: [o.s.] Dean! Hurry up!
Dean: Uh, be down in a second.
Lillian: [o.s.] Don't make me tell you twice.

Lillian: Chore chart is empty. Why'd I go through the trouble of making the thing if I was gonna have to end up doing it all myself anyway?
Bill: [grunts] You know, your mother's right. We all have to do our part. [quietly] Glad my name isn't on this. [normal voice] Dean, hurry up and get to the bus.
Dean: I'm not going to school today. Today's "Take Your Son To Work Day," remember?
Bill: Of course I remember.
Adult Dean: Of course he didn't.
Bill: Even though I'm not teaching at the university and I have to take you to my recording session... like I planned all along.

Lillian: Well, now that I think about it, today would be a good day for Dean to go to work with me. We have a lot of fun stuff planned.
Adult Dean: I didn't know where my mom worked, but I could tell by her sweater her job was boring.
Dean: Mom, can I please go with Dad?
Lillian: Mm. Fine.
Dean: Yes! [off Bill's look] Did I act too happy?
Bill: You'll learn.

[Band playing "With a Little Help From My Friends"]
Adult Dean: As I watched them play, I finally understood why they called it "funk music." Because when a band sounds as good as my dad's, you make a face like you smelled something bad.

Bill: [sings] ♪ What would you do if I sang out of tune? ♪ ♪ Would you stand up and walk out on me? ♪ ♪ Lend me your ears and I'll sing you a song ♪
Adult Dean: Watching my dad made me want a band of my own.
[fantasy:]
Dean: [sings] ♪ I will try not to sing out of key ♪ [talks] Thank you, thank you! On drums, Cory! [crowd cheers] On theremin, Brad! On guitar, Keisa! On the sax, me! And we are "The Deans"! [saxophone solo]
Audience: Dean! Dean!
[reality:]
Dean: [playing off-key tune]
Bill: Dean! Dean! Dean! Let's take five.