Somewhere today I read another story about children in the plane and remembered.
Three years ago, my son and I went to Egypt. He was 9 years old then. The aircraft is large, 3-4-3 seats in a row. We went there where we were 4. We had two extreme seats at the passage, and next to it was a 30-year-old mom with a daughter. Nothing, as they say, predicted. Only they sat down, my mom started calling somebody so that her interlocutor urgently wandered from the other end of Moscow to the airport from which we were flying and canceled the credit card that this lady had just issued, herself not understanding why. She just talked to a bank employee from the hustle, waiting for the plane, and suddenly it itself settled. And in the plane, the lady began to suffer vague doubts. That was enough to attract my attention.
While the lady was talking on the phone, her daughter for about 5-6 years painted her mom’s jeans with a flommaster. My mom noticed it when it was too late. And the only thing she said was, “Daughter, well, you can’t do that!” Then the girl started burning. She alternately struggled in hysteria lying on the floor, grabbed her mother for her hair in anger because her mother didn’t give her something, walked on her back. Sitting and licking the men’s legs on the back seat, that is, creating a celebration for others. Finally, this monster turned attention to the most accessible target – my son sitting next to her.
I must say that my son has been reading since the age of five. I was mocked at school and then mocked that I went to the library every day, although I still write with mistakes, and this spit over me. He sat down all day and read quietly. The monster grabbed his hands and began to sneak out of his seat. I turned to my mother, already knowing what I would hear in response. She looked at us with contempt and said to her daughter, "You see, daughter, men at this age are all goats, you can't expect anything from them," and to me, "And your child could give up!" What to give up? Another free place? There is some boundary beyond which you are no longer angry, it causes amazement and laughter.
Then the girl, apparently, put a motorcycle in her ass, and she began to wear through the passages, wiping out glasses, food and other passenger things.
It was already on the flight to Hurghada.
For what, in fact, I write. For the one phrase that this mother-in-law said when we landed. She, once again looking around us with contempt, said: "All children are like children, they play, they run, only you raised a fool, he was sitting and reading like a fool all the time."