I never expected a two-hour flight to change so much. I, Bethany, was seated next to my five-year-old daughter, Ella, who was happily watching cartoons on her iPad. As I settled in, I noticed a family across the aisle, including a little boy who was already squirming and whining.

Twenty minutes in, the boy’s mother leaned over and asked me to put away Ella’s iPad, claiming it was unfair to her son. I calmly refused, explaining that Ella needed it to stay calm during the flight. The tension escalated, and soon, the boy’s tantrums reached a peak, further annoying his mother.

Suddenly, Entitled Mom reached across to grab her bag, knocking Ella’s iPad off her tray. The device shattered upon hitting the floor, and Ella screamed, “Mommy, my iPad!” Entitled Mom feigned surprise but I saw the satisfaction in her eyes. I confronted her, but she shrugged it off, insisting it was a sign Ella needed less screen time.

As I comforted Ella, chaos erupted again. The boy’s hyperactivity caused him to knock over Entitled Mom’s coffee, spilling it onto her lap and her bag. To my shock, her passport fell out and got soaked. Panic set in for her as she realized the potential travel nightmare ahead.

The flight attendant informed her that a damaged passport could cause serious issues upon landing. As we descended, I couldn’t help but feel a mix of sympathy and satisfaction watching her frantically dab at her ruined passport while her son finally fell asleep.

When we disembarked, Entitled Mom’s eyes briefly met mine, and for a moment, I thought I saw remorse. But as her son began whining again, that moment faded. I turned to Ella, who was smiling again, and we headed toward the baggage claim, thankful for our perspective on the chaotic flight.

It became clear: while Ella lost her iPad, Entitled Mom lost something much more valuable. Sometimes, the best lessons come from the worst experiences.