If Freud has something to say to me, he can come over here and say it.
[She's completely fine with him taking his hair into his own hands—literally. Less chance for soap in his eyes that way. She turns for him, and laughs under her breath.] I guess I'll just have to wash these all by myself then. [As she soaps up her front. Teasing aside, she doesn't mind that either. She's thinking about breakfast too.]
I want an Allen-sized breakfast. [Does she mean a breakfast the size of which Allen would eat or a breakfast that was the size of Allen? Really, either way was good.]