His enthusiasm was impressive, but his volume was… considerable. I smiled at first, remembering my own children’s early curiosity, but fatigue quickly replaced amusement. My eyes shut tighter, hoping for quiet. That’s when I felt it—the first kick.
A light tap on the back of my seat. Then another. Then another. Rhythmic. Relentless.
I turned around, polite but firm. “Hey there, buddy, could you try not to kick the seat? I’m really tired.”
His mother gave me an apologetic smile. “I’m so sorry. He’s just excited—it’s his first flight.”
“No problem,” I said, forcing a kind tone. But five minutes later, the gentle tapping became thudding.
The exhaustion that had been simmering for hours turned to frustration. I closed my eyes again, trying deep breathing and calm thoughts, but every jolt of my seat erased the effort.
Eventually, I turned again—less patient this time. “Ma’am, please. I’ve had a long day. Could you ask him to stop?”
