Ella’s heartbreaking scream filled the cabin. “Mommy, my iPad!”
The woman gasped, feigning shock. “Oh no! What a clumsy accident!” But the smug look on her face told me otherwise. “Maybe it’s a sign your daughter needs less screen time,” she added.
I was furious, ready to respond when a flight attendant arrived. The entitled mom immediately played the victim. “It was a terrible accident!”
The attendant offered sympathy but explained there wasn’t much to be done mid-flight. I comforted Ella, but karma wasn’t finished yet.
With no iPad to distract him, the boy’s tantrums worsened. He kicked seats, pulled trays, and whined louder, while his mom’s attempts to calm him failed miserably.
“Sweetie, please stop,” she begged.
“I’m bored! This is the worst trip ever!”
Meanwhile, Ella tugged my sleeve, still upset. “Mommy, can you fix it?”
I hugged her. “We’ll get it fixed when we land. How about we read a book together?”
As I grabbed her storybook, more chaos unfolded across the aisle. The boy knocked over his mom’s coffee in frustration, soaking her lap and spilling into her open handbag.
To make matters worse, her passport slid out and landed on the floor—right under her son’s foot. Before she could grab it, he stepped on it, grinding it into the coffee-soaked carpet.
Her face turned to sheer panic. She grabbed the passport, but it was ruined—soaked and warped beyond repair.
The flight attendant returned, warning her that a damaged passport could cause trouble at customs, especially since they had a connecting flight to Paris. The mom’s panic deepened as she frantically tried to clean up the mess.
Meanwhile, I couldn’t help but feel a touch of satisfaction. Karma had worked its magic. As the plane began its descent, Ella was calm, flipping through her book, her earlier distress forgotten.
“Mommy, can we bake cupcakes when we get home?” she asked with a smile.
“Of course, and maybe some cookies too,” I replied, grateful for the reminder that sometimes, the universe has its way of balancing things out.
As we exited the plane, I glanced back at the frazzled mom, clutching her ruined passport. Turns out, Ella’s iPad wasn’t the only thing broken on that flight.
