My son Noah was five weeks old, and this was my first time flying alone with him and my ten-year-old daughter, Lily. I had paid an extra $410 for two seats together with extra legroom. One for Lily, one for me, with Noah in my arms.

When we reached row 12, a woman was already occupying both seats. She had taken Lily’s window seat, spread her handbag and coat across mine, removed her shoes, and rested one bare foot against the wall. When I politely explained that we had reserved those seats, she glanced at my sleeping newborn, put her headphones back on, and replied, “I’m settled.” Then she accused me of expecting special treatment because I was traveling with children. I showed her our boarding passes, but she refused to move. The flight attendant offered me another seat three rows behind, and before I could respond, the woman smiled triumphantly.