I thought about writing a satirical blog post about a young Mark McGwire admitting to cheating on a History test, but claiming he would have gotten an A+ anyway thanks to his “God given” abilities.

However, since I’ve established in the past that you all, my readers, enjoy reading about sports about as much as John Edwards enjoys rereading his marriage vows, I’ll skip that one.

Instead, I’ve decided to start a new series called “Parent of the Year Award.” Yes, I’m sure this has been done elsewhere MANY times by MANY different people, but it’s new to SKOS and that’s all that matters. (Right?)

Basically, whenever I come across a particularly craptacular parent during this journey I call life, I will write about it. Then I will sarcastically dub them the “Parent of the Year.” Yes, there could be numerous recipients in a given year, thereby rending the “year” time frame pointless. Don’t get bogged down in semantics. This award is just like the Golden Globes or The Oscars: meaningless and (allegedly) entertaining.

I met this very special parent yesterday at the nearby Air Force base. While sitting in a crowded waiting room for an appointment,  a 30-ish mom and her 8-ish son sat down across from me.

They seemed like any other regular mom and child you would see. He was dressed like a normal kid. She had no visible tattoos and was dressed conservatively. They both seemed perfectly normal.

But then she took out her iPhone.

I don’t know what they were watching. I don’t care to know. The audio, which was turned up LOUD for the two of them (and everyone else in the waiting room) to hear, was enough for me to know it’s nothing I’d care to see.

And even if it WAS something I inexplicably cared to see, it’s not something I would want to watch with my 8-year-old son.

And even if it WAS something I inexplicably cared to see AND something I inexplicably deemed appropriate to watch with my 8-year-old son, it’s not something I would watch in a room full of people with the audio turned up.

What was it?

As best as I can tell, they were watching “humor” videos where someone would loudly pass gas (or pretend to pass gas) near or around total strangers. Loudly. Deafenly loud. And then you hear audience laughter and the total stranger yelling something in shock and amazement (usually an obscenity).

The mom and child would laugh and giggle throughout each video.

I endured the insanity for about five minutes before I made a throat-clearing sound and asked: “Ma’am, would you mind please turning the volume down?”

After sporting a half-confused, half-shocked “it never DAWNED on me this might be bothering anyone” expression, the mom responded “oh okay” and then obliged.

Granted, it’s not like she was dangling a baby off a balcony ala Michael Jackson, but this is still pretty bad parenting.

Congratulations, mom who enjoys bathroom humor and being a poor influence on her son and being oblivious to the cares for those around her. You are the first recipient of the Parent of the Year Award, which I will henceforth abbreviate to POTY.

In your case, that abbreviation is pretty apropos.