When her baby starts fussing on the plane, single mother Ava grows desperate for a moment of peace. A seemingly kind man offers to help, but her relief gives way to horror when she sees what he’s giving her child! I had always heard horror stories about traveling with a baby, but nothing prepared me for boarding that flight from New York to Los Angeles with my 14-month-old son, Shawn.
Let me tell you, it was an ordeal I’ll never forget. From the moment we stepped onto the plane, Shawn was fussy and crying. You know, the kind of crying that’s so loud it echoes through the metal tube of the airplane, making everyone’s heads turn.
I could feel the judgmental stares burning holes into my back as I juggled my carry-on and tried to rock Shawn in my arms. “Come on, buddy, please calm down,” I whispered, bouncing him gently. My voice was shaky with exhaustion.
I hadn’t slept more than three hours straight in weeks, and now this. I took my seat and offered Shawn his favorite toy, a stuffed giraffe. He instantly batted it out of my hand.
I sighed as I leaned over to retrieve the giraffe. I was starting to think I’d made a mistake flying across the country with such a young child. But what choice did I have?
My mom had been terribly sick and Dad had paid for my flight so they could meet Shawn, just in case she took a turn for the worse. This trip was important. We hadn’t even taken off yet, and the tension in the cabin was already palpable.
I could see a middle-aged woman a few rows ahead of us turn and whisper something to her husband, who rolled his eyes. Great, just what I needed—more people thinking I was a terrible mother. About an hour into the flight, things went from bad to worse.
Shawn’s cries had escalated into full-blown screams, and I was on the verge of tears myself. That’s when a knight in a rumpled coat appeared. He was sitting across the aisle from us, a seemingly kind man with a calm demeanor.
“Hey there,” he said, smiling warmly. “I’m David. I couldn’t help but notice you’re having a tough time.
I have a daughter about the same age as your boy. Maybe I could help? Give you a little break?”
Desperation is a powerful motivator.
I looked at David, then down at Shawn, who was now hiccuping from crying so hard. I hesitated. Something about this guy seemed off, but the thought of a few minutes of peace was too tempting.
Besides, what could go wrong? It wasn’t like I’d be letting Shawn out of my sight. I handed Shawn over, praying I wasn’t making a huge mistake.
“Thank you,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. “No problem at all. I know how it is,” David replied, gently taking Shawn into his arms.
He started rocking him, and to my amazement, Shawn’s cries began to subside. I slumped back into my seat, closing my eyes for a moment. The relief was overwhelming.
I dug through my bag for my laptop and a snack, thinking maybe I could get a few minutes to myself. That’s when the crying stopped abruptly. I turned, a sense of dread creeping over me.
David was holding a can of energy drink, tipping it toward Shawn’s mouth! “What are you doing?!” I shouted, lunging forward to take Shawn back. David laughed, a sound that sent chills down my spine.
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