I called over the flight attendant and asked for a cup of cold water. As she walked away, I sat back in my seat and stared ahead. My mind was spinning, but not with panic. With a plan. If this mother wouldn’t take responsibility, maybe a little discomfort would get her attention.
The water arrived, full of ice. I held it carefully in one hand, waiting for the next kick. Sure enough, five seconds later, his foot hit my back again. I took a deep breath and timed it perfectly. I flinched forward and let the cup “accidentally” tip over my shoulder.
The cold water spilled backwards into their row. I heard a gasp and a yelp as it splashed over the mother and onto the boy’s lap. Her magazine hit the floor. He stopped kicking immediately.