She leaned forward. “What is wrong with you?” she snapped. I turned, eyes wide with fake surprise. “I’m so sorry,” I said calmly. “I got startled. The kicking made me spill it.” The flight attendant returned, asking if everything was okay. I nodded. “Just a little turbulence.”
The mother didn’t respond. She dabbed herself with napkins and avoided eye contact. Her son was silent. The passengers nearby had seen it all. Some looked annoyed, but others gave me approving nods. For the first time that flight, the kicking stopped.
I leaned back in my soaked seat, strangely satisfied. The message was clear. I didn’t yell. I didn’t threaten. I just returned the discomfort she allowed her son to cause.