The World's Worst Parents

That's who were sitting in front of me on the plane on my way to Blogher '07 this morning.

That's right, I'm looking at you, Airtran Flight 835, Row 19. You are the worst parents I have ever seen in my life.

And it only took me two and half hours to realize it.

When your little boy first came on board, I thought he was just this cute little kid, you know, with his blond hair and brown eyes. I was prepared to like him.

But that was before the constant yelling, ("ya Ya YA YA YA YA!") and the slapping, and the kicking.

By the end of the flight, every one of your fellow passengers thought he was the spawn of Satan.

And you know what really stinks about that, parents? It's not his fault.

It's yours.

Oh, sure, when the "YA YA!"'s finally reached piercing proportions, you would turn to your boy and admonish him with a loud "Shhh!" And that would silence him, for like a minute, until he started up again.

But what did you do before then?

I'll tell you: nothing.

And this may surprise you, but I'm not talking about discipline when I say that.

This was a freakin' two and a half hour flight. And your kid was what, maybe three years old?

And what did you bring for him to do on board, huh? Nothing. Not a damn thing. No toys, no coloring book or crayons. No book for you to read to him, either, though I doubt you would have done that, because heaven knows that you were doing your best to ignore his very existence until those shrieking "YA YA!"s got into your brain, too.

Hell, I would have been bored for two and a half freakin' hours, if I had been treated to this delightful little show your son was putting on.

I bet, if I were three? I'd have "YA YA!"'ed my little heart out, too.

You sat him in the middle seat, I noticed, too, between the two of you. I might have thought it was touching, if I thought it was intended for his benefit. Like, maybe you felt he would be more comforted between you, or safer somehow.

But that couldn't have been your reasoning, since you offered no comfort.

You didn't even offer conversation for 99% of the flight.

He might have sat by the window, and passed at least a portion of the time watching the fluffy white clouds pass by.

You could have given him an aisle seat, maybe even let him stand up once or twice during the flight. You could have taken him for a walk down the aisle.

But no, any of that was just too damn much to ask of you.

You know when you did pay attention, though? You know the 1% of the time when you actually talked to your little boy, other than to shush him?

When we landed, safe on the ground, and people stood up to file out around you.

THAT'S when you finally turned to your boy, and gushed in cooing tones, "We're on the ground now! We landed!"

Just that one moment, when all those other eyes were on you. When all the people who had heard that boy "YA YA YA YA!"'ing for the whole frickin' flight filed by, and looked curiously to see how you were handling the situation.

But me? I was right behind you the entire flight. Your little last-minute play-acting didn't fool me.

You are the worst frickin' parents on the planet.