We lack a word in the English language for the emotion that floods the body of a parent who is the custodian of a screaming child on an airplane. It is some combination of humiliation, helplessness and a palpable sense of being judged. Your brain considers all sorts of scenarios in that moment: Can I order a rye for the baby? How long will it take me to die if I jump out the window? Maybe I’m already dying? Surely death would be less painful.
God made toddlers smaller than adults for a reason
