Watching Dennis Quaid falling face down into vats of goop, getting kissed by a pig and talking baby talk in Yours, Mine and Ours is one of those experiences that causes you to question your faith in Hollywood's motives.
Yours, Mine and Ours is indeed recycled garbage, but it's fairly harmless recycled garbage. It's certainly not enough to make you gag. Set your standards low, and the worst you should get is a hiccup or two.
What matters is how stale and charmless this movie feels, how hard the actors all work in the service of mediocrity, and how shameless Hollywood is for feeding us thin porridge like this and then wondering why box office is down.