I was flying with my 5-year-old, Ella, and she was happily watching something on her iPad with headphones on.
Across the aisle was this boy about the same age, but he kept eyeing Ella’s screen. His whining got louder, and his mom, who I’ll call Entitled Mom (EM), finally tapped me on the shoulder.
“We’re being responsible and not giving our son any screen time this trip. Can you put the iPad away? It’s upsetting him.” I was stunned. “No, sorry. My daughter’s calm and enjoying her show.” EM’s smile dropped fast.
“Wow, so you’d rather ruin our family trip than take a break from your kid’s precious screen?” She muttered, just loud enough for everyone to hear, “Some parents can’t say no these days. It’s no wonder kids are spoiled.” I ignored her, but halfway through the flight, her son threw a bigger tantrum.
And then, EM “accidentally” knocked over Ella’s tray, sending the iPad crashing to the floor! “Oops, so clumsy of me!” she said, smirking. Ella burst into tears, and I was boiling inside, but what could I do?
EM acted like it was an accident, playing innocent the whole time. I took a deep breath and decided to focus on calming Ella down. I figured karma would catch up with EM soon enough. And it did, sooner than I expected.
Not long after the “accident,” her son started crying again—but this time, not out of boredom. He was holding his stomach, saying it hurt really bad. At first, EM just hushed him, clearly annoyed. But his crying only got louder, and then he started throwing up. A lot.
The flight attendants rushed over. People were trying to help. It was chaos.
EM panicked. Suddenly, she wasn’t smug anymore. She was begging for help, yelling for the crew, asking if there was a doctor on board.
That’s when a man in the row behind me stood up—tall, calm, maybe mid-40s, wearing a hoodie and glasses. “I’m a pediatric nurse,” he said.
He knelt down and checked on the boy. After a few questions, he gently said, “It might be food poisoning. He needs fluids and rest, but we’ll keep him comfortable until we land.”
They laid the boy across EM’s lap. She looked completely rattled. And then she looked over at me. Her expression wasn’t smug anymore. It was tired. Frantic. Guilty, maybe. She opened her mouth, but no words came out.
The nurse, whose name I later learned was Corbin, handed her a small juice box from his bag. “Keep him sipping this. Tiny sips. It’ll help.”
She nodded. Then she whispered something I almost didn’t hear: “I was just trying to do the right thing.”
I didn’t respond. I was still angry. But I just held Ella close and let her lean against me while she watched her cracked-screen iPad, still working somehow.
When we landed, EM stayed back with her son while everyone else deplaned. As we stepped off, Corbin caught up to us and said, “Hey, I saw what happened with the tablet. If it’s broken, I work with a tech guy who repairs these for free for families.”
I was shocked. “That’s incredibly kind of you. Thank you.”
He smiled and handed me a small card with a name and number on it. “People don’t always get what they deserve,” he said, “but sometimes, they get what they need.”
That stuck with me.
Three days later, Ella’s iPad was good as new—Corbin’s friend had fixed it, no charge. Not only that, but he’d added a sturdy case around it and even threw in a new pair of kid-safe headphones.
But the twist?
About a week after our flight, I got a message on Facebook from someone named Noelia A. She said, “You probably don’t remember me, but I’m the mom from the plane. I was awful to you. I know that. I’ve had a rough year, not that it excuses anything. But I saw how patient you were with your daughter, and with me, honestly. I’m trying to be better.”
Then she added: “Also… we caved and got our son a tablet. Turns out, moderation is better than martyrdom. Just thought you’d like to know.”
I stared at that message for a long time.
Here’s what I learned: not everyone is as put-together as they seem. Some people lash out because they’re overwhelmed, insecure, or simply going through something we’ll never know about.
But grace—when you can give it—can ripple. I’m not saying let people walk all over you. But sometimes, the high road isn’t about being right—it’s about choosing peace over pride.
And sometimes, karma needs a little help from kind strangers… and patient parents just trying to make it through a flight.
If this story made you feel something, please like and share it. You never know who needs to hear it today. ❤️
