Johnny: Ooh. I have brain freeze. But not a bad brain freeze. A happy one.
Nikki: What's the difference?
Johnny: A bad brain freeze PUNCHES your brain! ['Punching his forehead' motion] A happy one HUGS your brain. [Smiles sweetly]

Johnny: Dad, teach me programming.
Miklos: I'll teach you when you're a bit older. Right now it would probably be pretty boring for you.
Johnny: No! It would be exciting! Nothing in my life is boring, except for Fabricland.

Miklos: You're a smart guy. You know what I am?
John: A destroyed man.

[after his first guitar lesson]
Johnny: I was nervous at first because I didn't expect it would be that fun. But as soon as I saw my music teacher I smiled up.
Miklos: Smiled up? What does that mean?
Johnny: It means that the good feeling punches down the nervous feeling and it lives happily ever after.

Miklos: So John, what's up? How's life?
Johnny: Huh? Why do you say how's life? It's AMAZING! What do you think it is? Fried chicken?

[After hearing the 50th Conservative radio ad today]
Nikki: Wow, I sure hope if Scheer wins on Monday that I'll have loads of money falling out of my pockets.
Johnny: What do you mean?
Nikki: Oh, the party with the blue election signs says if we vote for them they're putting money in our pocket.
Johnny: I highly doubt it.

Miklos: John, what do you want to be when you grow up?
Johnny: I don't know.
Miklos: What about a transparent wall technician?
Johnny: What does that even mean?
Miklos: A window washer.
Johnny: Nope. I do not want to be anything like that.

Johnny: I'm really fast on my bike. Sometimes I let go of my breath but I never give up.

Johnny: Don't make me do boring stuff. I like doing cute stuff.
Miklos: Boring stuff. Like what?
Johnny: Like talking too much, or bringing in your iced coffee, or making you have to stop being on your phone all the time. That's it.
Miklos: And what about the cute stuff?
Johnny: That's like doing things I like... or like when mommy sings me a song.

Johnny: Don't look at me like that.
Nikki: Like what?
Johnny: Like an egg salad sandwich.

[While driving on the highway; a tow truck worker pulls over and gets out of his car to walk up to a police car pulled over ahead of him]
Johnny: Somehow a tow truck driver pulled over a policeman!

Johnny: How do you make that salad dressing?
Nikki: I don't know, I kind of just put whatever ingredients I like in and hope for the best.
Johnny: Yeah! You can do that. You don't have to follow a recipe. You can make your own! Nobody will call the cops. The cops don't mind! The government's not going to stop you! The government runs the world but they won't tell you what to put in your salad dressing!

Miklos: I'll be flying through those clouds soon. Eh John? When you're flying in a plane sometimes you're even above the clouds. You look down and you can see them. I'll take a picture and send it for you to see.
[Johnny smacks his head]
Johnny: Oh my gosh, that's so weird I think I'm gonna throw up. That's bizarre.

Johnny: Some people’s ears wobble.
Nikki: Wobble? What do you mean?
Johnny: Did I go to a funeral once? I’m guessing I did. At the funeral there was an old lady and her ears wobbled.

Johnny: HAHA! I did two toots the same, and one different, Mommy! It's so FUNNY, isn't it?! [exaggerated laughing for approximately 20 seconds] My toots are the BEST!

Papo: Haha! That's so stupid.
Johnny: HEY! I was having a fun time until you said a swear word!

Miklos: "Wow. Look at all the geese in that field!"
Johnny: "I saw that on my way home from school. I guess whoever lives there has invited all their goose friends. They have 12 brothers, and 100 sisters!"

Miklos: Johnny beat me at Trouble. He sent me back to the beginning twice.
Johnny: Yep! So let's call that game 'Trouble for Miklos.'

Johnny: Wanna be bad guys?
Miklos: Sure.
Johnny: Ok. Let’s go bad the day up.
Miklos: Bad the day up? What does that mean?
Johnny: When we go over there, the day’s gonna be so angry at us.

Johnny: Let’s go shoot the day!
Nikki: Shoot the day?
Johnny: Shoot the day means save the day — with GUNS!!
Nikki: What are you, American?