Paul: Mr Grimes, would you be willing to help me win a contest? It involves basketball.
Edmund: Wouldn't you rather have your dad help you out?
Paul: I just said that I wanted to win. If I wanted to screw it up, I wouldn't be asking for your help.

Stella: You know, Paul, if you really want to win this contest, you should ask Edmund Grimes. Before his son passed, he taught basketball to college kids.
Wilbur: Woah, wait, did we really do that? That son storyline?
Stella: Yup, we sure did, kid.
Wilbur: Why? What's wrong with us?!
Stella: Nothing's wrong with us, Wilbur.
Wilbur: Oh... do you think we'll eventually explain it?
Stella: Probably. Not one of our main priorities right now.
Wilbur: Ah, okay then.

Emmy: Seeing as you won, I'm guessing you're taking Mr Grimes with you to the game?
Paul: Oh, I was actually going to give them to dad.
Emmy: Paul, you can't do that. The poor guy spent his weekends with you. Take him to the game. He's earned it.

Edmund: Thank you Paul. I've not had this much fun since my son was alive.
Paul: No, Mr Grimes, I should be the one thanking you. Without your help and training, we wouldn't be eating these hot dogs.
Edmund: Well, I'm just glad that I have close friends and their kids' to keep me and my Ellen happy.
Paul: I can't speak for the others, but if you want to do any other father-son activities, I'll be there.

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