Flying cross-country with my 14-month-old son, Shawn, was already a challenge. He cried nonstop, drawing frustrated glances from other passengers. I was exhausted, juggling bags, snacks, and a wriggling toddler while silently praying for the flight to end. Traveling alone with a baby felt like an impossible task.
Then, a man across the aisle named David offered to help. Desperate for a moment of rest, I hesitated but eventually handed Shawn over for a few minutes. At first, it worked—Shawn stopped crying, and I finally exhaled. But then I looked over and saw David holding an energy drink near my son. My heart dropped.
I quickly asked for Shawn back, panicked. David rolled his eyes and called me overprotective, insisting it was harmless. When things escalated, a flight attendant stepped in and firmly sided with me. She gently took control of the situation, and David reluctantly handed Shawn back, still muttering under his breath.