Free Seriously... I'm Kidding by Ellen DeGeneres

to make your list while you’re flying on an airplane next to a very attractive person. You’ll take out a piece of paper and rummage through your bag for a pen. Once you find it, you’ll exclaim, “Found it!” and reach your arm up, immediately knocking it into the tray table of the attractive person next to you. Their water will go flying through the air, soaking them and you and the flight attendant, who happens to be walking by at the time. Everyone around you will be upset, you’ll have to sit there without moving an inch for the rest of the six-hour flight, and you won’t marry the stranger on the plane, something you’ve dreamed of doing since you were six.
• What was I trying to decide?

Additional Thank-Yous

    I just remembered some people I forgot to thank in the acknowledgments. Deepak Chopra; my third-grade teacher, Mrs. Grady; the New Orleans Saints; my cats Charlie, George, and Chairman, who are my dawgs; my dogs Wolf and Mabel, who are really cool cats; everybody at NASA; Kate Middleton; and the nice man at the supermarket today who let me pay ahead of him because I only had one item. Thank you.

Babies, Animals, and Baby Animals

    P eople are constantly asking Portia and me if we are going to have children. If you are one of the people or persons who want to know the answer to that question, before you stop me on the street or send me an e-mail or hand me back my dry cleaning, I can tell you right now that we are not going to have any children. We thought about it. We love children. We love to be around children after they’ve been fed and bathed. But we ultimately decided that we don’t want children of our own. There is far too much glass in our house.
    A few years ago in an online poll, Portia and I were voted the number one celebrity couple people would trust leaving their kids with. That’s very flattering, but before anyone starts dropping their babies off at our house like it’s a day care center, let me tell you how much I know about them. I know which end you feed. I know up from down. I know front from back on the boy ones. And I know that when they’re born they’re slimy and make weird goat noises. I might be thinking of a baby goat in that instance.
    I know everyone says it, and that’s because it’s true—parents have the hardest job in the world. I can’t think of anyone who has a harder job on the planet, besides maybe whoever glues those tiny rhinestones onto doll shoes. It’s so precise.
    Portia and I have learned so much about parenting from being around our niece Eva and her mom and dad. It’s a challenge even if you have the most precious, most adorable, and cutest baby on the planet. (I know everyone says that about their own kids, and I’m sure you all think your kids are the cutest kids on the planet. It’s sweet that you think that, but the fact of the matter is, Eva is the cutest.)
    We’ve learned how much patience you need to have and how careful you have to be with what you say and what you do because from the moment these little creatures are born their brains are like sponges that absorb every single thing around them. We’ve also learned how attentive you have to be. If you’re not attentive 100 percent of the time, you will quickly learn how difficult it is to get grape juice out of the antique rug in Auntie Ellen and Auntie Portia’s sunroom.
    Here’s why I think every parent out there should be given a medal or a ribbon or a trophy, like those bowling trophies but instead of a person bowling on top there would be a little statue of a parent sitting down to watch some mindless TV after scraping dried peas off the sofa while their son or daughter is finally sound asleep in the other room. That might be too much to put on a trophy, but you get the idea.
    First you have your baby, which in and of itself is a stunning feat. I won’t go into specifics, but ouch and no thank you. Then you spend the next eighteen years raising the child. Throughout that