An entitled mom shattered my daughter’s iPad mid-flight to stop her son’s tantrum — but karma hit back at 30,000 feet in a way she never expected.
Hi, I’m Bethany, 35, and I never thought a short domestic flight would take such a dramatic turn. It was just a two-hour journey, and I was settled into my seat with my five-year-old daughter, Ella, next to me. As the plane began taxiing, I felt relieved — Ella was quietly watching cartoons on her iPad, headphones on, completely content.
“You comfy, honey?” I asked as I tucked a loose strand of her hair behind her ear.
She nodded, eyes still on the screen. “Can I have some juice later?”
“Of course,” I smiled, reaching for my book. “Just let me know when you’re ready.”
Just as I started reading, I noticed movement across the aisle — a family of three was getting settled. The little boy, about Ella’s age, was already throwing a fit, whining and squirming in his seat.
“I’m bored!” he shouted, kicking the seat ahead of him.
His mom responded sternly, “We agreed — no screens this trip. Try to behave.”
The boy glanced over and immediately locked eyes on Ella’s iPad.
Uh-oh. This isn’t going to go well, I thought.
About twenty minutes later, I felt a tap on my shoulder. The boy’s mom leaned over, flashing a tight, forced smile.
“Hi! So… I noticed your daughter has an iPad. We’re trying to raise our son without screens, and, well, he’s getting really upset. Could you put it away? It’s upsetting him.”
I blinked, not believing what I’d just heard. “Sorry, what?”
“It’s just unfair to him,” she replied, voice syrupy but firm.
I held back my annoyance and answered calmly, “She’s using it to stay calm during the flight. I’m not taking it away.”
Her expression changed instantly. “Wow, really? You’d rather ruin our family trip than have your daughter take a screen break?”
My patience was slipping. “She’s quietly enjoying her show. Maybe you should’ve brought something for your son to do.”
The woman — let’s just call her Entitled Mom — was clearly irritated.
“Some parents just don’t know how to say no. No wonder kids today are so spoiled,” she muttered.
I turned back to my book, hoping that would end the conversation. Her passive-aggressive glare said otherwise.
“Everything okay, Mommy?” Ella asked.
“Everything’s fine, sweetheart. Just keep watching your show.”
The next hour was rough. The boy’s meltdown escalated, his shrieks echoing through the cabin. Every few minutes, the parents shot us dirty looks like this was somehow our fault.
“I want THAT!” the boy yelled, pointing at the iPad. “It’s not fair!”
His mom leaned in and said loudly, “I know, sweetie. Some people are just selfish.”
I clenched my jaw and focused on my book, trying to ignore the chaos. Ella, thankfully, was still immersed in her cartoons.
Then it happened.
Out of nowhere, Entitled Mom leaned across the aisle, reaching for her bag — or pretending to — and knocked into Ella’s tray table.
I watched, horrified, as the iPad slid off the tray and crashed to the floor. The sound of cracking glass was unmistakable.
Ella gasped. “Mommy! My iPad!”
Entitled Mom feigned surprise. “Oh no! I’m so clumsy!”
But I caught the smug glint in her eye. This was deliberate.
“What is wrong with you?” I hissed.
She shrugged casually. “Accidents happen. Maybe it’s a sign she’s had enough screen time.”
I was ready to let her have it, but just then a flight attendant walked over.
“Is everything alright here?” she asked, eyeing the shattered iPad.
“Oh, just a terrible accident,” Entitled Mom said innocently. “I feel awful!”
The flight attendant offered me an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry about your device, ma’am. Let us know if we can assist in any other way.”
With that, she moved on, and I turned to comfort a heartbroken Ella.
But karma wasn’t finished.
With the iPad gone, the little boy’s tantrum worsened. He kicked seats, flailed around, and slammed his tray repeatedly.
“Sweetie, please calm down,” Entitled Mom pleaded.
“I’M BORED! THIS IS THE WORST TRIP EVER!”
I watched silently, torn between sympathy and a tiny, petty sense of justice.
Ella wiped her tears and tugged on my sleeve. “Can you fix it?”
I hugged her. “We’ll get it looked at when we land, okay? Let’s read a story instead.”
Just as we settled with a book, disaster struck across the aisle.
In his tantrum, the boy knocked over his mother’s coffee. It spilled across her lap and soaked into her open handbag.
“No, no, no!” she cried, scrambling to save her things.
As she panicked, something slipped from her bag and hit the floor — a small blue booklet.
Her passport.
Before she could grab it, her son stomped on it, grinding it into the wet carpet.
Her expression was priceless. She picked it up, but it was too late — the pages were soggy, stuck together, and the cover was a warped, brown-stained mess.
A flight attendant approached again. “Is that your passport, ma’am?”
She nodded.
“I’m afraid a damaged passport may cause issues when you land — especially for international connections.”
Her face turned white. “But… we have a connecting flight to Paris in three hours!”
Her husband looked helpless. “Maybe we can explain at customs?”
As they began arguing, I focused on Ella, who was now smiling as we read together.
“Mommy, can we bake cupcakes when we get home?”
“You bet we can,” I said, ruffling her hair. “Cookies too.”
As the plane began to descend, Entitled Mom was dabbing at the ruined passport with tissues, muttering anxiously. Her son had finally passed out from exhaustion.
She got on the phone, panic in her voice.
“Yes, I understand it’s last-minute, but we have to cancel our flight. No, we can’t travel internationally… my passport is completely destroyed.”
As we stood up to disembark, she glanced at me. For a split second, I thought I saw regret in her eyes — but it vanished as soon as her son whined again.
“Ready to go, Ella?” I asked, gathering our things.
“Can we get ice cream at the airport?”
“After everything we’ve been through? Absolutely,” I laughed.
As we made our way toward baggage claim, I glanced back one last time. Entitled Mom was still trying to salvage her soaked passport. The irony wasn’t lost on me — she broke a $400 iPad to stop her son’s tantrum, but in the end, she lost something far more important.
Turns out, she didn’t just ruin my daughter’s tablet… she wrecked her own entire vacation.
Funny how karma works — even 30,000 feet in the air.