- Gilbert Bates: Hey, look. Someone must have shoved it under your door.
- Theodore Cleaver: What is it?
- Gilbert Bates: It says, "Mr Theodore Cleaver".
- Theodore Cleaver: Hey, that's me! It says they delivered a registered letter, but there was nobody here, so they took it back to the Post Office and we're s'posed to go get it.
- Gilbert Bates: Hmm, must be a mistake. No kid ever got a registered letter.
- Theodore Cleaver: Well, it's gotta be for me. I'm the only Theodore Cleaver in the whole house.
- Gilbert Bates: Hey, maybe it's a present. Let's go down to the Post Office and see what it is.
- Theodore Cleaver: Okay. I just hope they don't hit us or anything.
- Theodore Cleaver: [Beaver is old enough to make his own decisions about his birthday money, but tells a lie anyway after Gilbert convinces him to buy a model race car, not save the unexpected $10 he gets from Uncle Billy] Well, what should I do about the car, Dad?
- Ward Cleaver: Well, what do you think you should do?
- Theodore Cleaver: You mean I've got to make my own decision about that, too?
- Ward Cleaver: I think you should.
- Theodore Cleaver: Well, I think I oughta keep the car, on accounta I used it, but I'm gonna tell Mom I'm sorry for lyin' to her, and I think I oughta come home from school every day early for a whole week, without havin' any fun.
- Ward Cleaver: Fine, Beaver. I have just one suggestion to make.
- Theodore Cleaver: Oh, yes sir?
- Ward Cleaver: I think you should tell Gilbert that his idea didn't work.
- Theodore Cleaver: [with a hint of anger] Oh, I'm gonna tell him all right, Dad. And I think I'll tell him while I'm sittin' on him!
- Theodore Cleaver: [Beaver and Gilbert go to the Post Office] I have a notice for a registered letter.
- The Postal Clerk: [reading the notice] "Registered mail, Mr Theodore Cleaver." Is that your father?
- Theodore Cleaver: Oh no, sir. That's me.
- Gilbert Bates: He doesn't look like a "Mister", but that's him!
- The Postal Clerk: Well, Mr Theodore Cleaver, do you, uh, have any identification?
- Theodore Cleaver: Identification?
- The Postal Clerk: Something, uh, with your name on it.
- Theodore Cleaver: Oh, just my underwear. My Mom sewed it on when I went to camp.