I, Bethany, 35 years old, never thought a two-hour flight could change so much. But there I was, settling into my seat with my five-year-old daughter Ella next to me. As the plane taxied down the runway, I breathed a sigh of relief. Ella was contentedly watching cartoons on her iPad, headphones snug on her ears…

“You comfy, sweetie?” I asked, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear.

Ella nodded, her eyes glued to the screen. “Uh-huh. Can I have juice later?”

“Of course,” I smiled, reaching for my book. “Just let me know when you’re thirsty.”

As I cracked open my novel, movement across the aisle caught my eye. A family of three had just sat down: a couple and a little boy around Ella’s age. He was squirming in his seat, whining loudly.

“I’m bored!” he wailed, kicking the seat in front of him.

His mother shushed him. “We told you, no screens on this trip. Be a good boy.”

The boy’s whining intensified, and I saw his gaze lock onto Ella’s iPad.

Oh boy, I thought. This might be a long flight.

Twenty minutes in, a tap on my shoulder made me look up. The mom from across the aisle was leaning towards me, a tight smile on her face.

“Hi there! I couldn’t help but notice your daughter’s iPad. We’ve decided to be responsible parents and not give our son any screen time this vacation. Would you mind putting that away? It’s making him upset.”

I blinked, stunned by her audacity. “Excuse me?”

“It’s just… it’s not fair to him, you know?”

I took a deep breath, reminding myself to stay calm. “I’m sorry, but no. My daughter’s using it to stay calm during the flight.”

The woman’s smile vanished instantly. “Wow, really? You’d rather ruin our family trip than have your daughter take a break from her precious screen?”

“Listen,” I said, my patience wearing thin, “she’s quietly minding her own business. Your son could do the same if you’d brought him something to do.”

The woman, let’s just call her “Entitled Mom (EM)” was visibly frustrated.

“Some parents just can’t say no to their kids these days. No wonder they all end up spoiled.”

I turned back to my book, hoping that would end the conversation. But I could feel her glare burning into the side of my head.

“Everything okay, Mommy?” Ella asked, momentarily looking up from her show.

“Everything’s fine, sweetie. Just keep watching your cartoons.”

The next hour was tense. The boy’s tantrum escalated, his wails piercing through the cabin noise.

His parents shot us dirty looks every few minutes, as if we were personally responsible for their poor planning.

“I want that!” the boy shrieked, pointing at Ella’s iPad. “It’s not fair!”

His mother leaned over. “I know, honey. Some people are just SELFISH!”

I gritted my teeth, focusing on my book. The words blurred as I tried to block out the chaos around us. Ella remained oblivious, lost in her cartoons.

Suddenly, a commotion erupted beside us. Entitled Mom had leaned across the aisle, reaching for her bag. But instead of grabbing her belongings, her arm knocked into Ella’s tray table.

Time seemed to slow as I watched Ella’s iPad slide off the tray. It hit the floor with a sickening crack, the screen shattering into a spiderweb of fractures.

Ella’s scream cut through the air. “Mommy, my iPad!”

Entitled Mom’s face lit with fake surprise. “Oh no! I didn’t mean to do that! So clumsy of me!”

But I saw the glimmer of satisfaction in her eyes. This was NO ACCIDENT.

“What is wrong with you?” I hissed.

She shrugged, not even trying to hide her smugness. “These things happen. Maybe it’s a sign she needs less screen time.”

I was about to unleash a torrent of words that would make a sailor blush when a flight attendant appeared.

“Is everything alright here?” she asked, eyeing the shattered iPad.

Entitled Mom’s act kicked into high gear. “Oh, it was just a terrible accident. I feel awful!”

I opened my mouth to argue, but the flight attendant cut me off with a sympathetic smile.