Ouch!

I'm clearly more upset about what I'm about to tell you than Greer.
She went home after school today with one of her little friends from first grade for a play date. I had to write a note so she could ride a different bus.
When I picked her up-- we played the rose and thorn game-- you know where she has to tell me something good that happened and something bad.
She told me on the way to Addie's house, a bigger boy on the bus told her she wasn't supposed to be on their bus. Then he told her he was going to hit her. And are you ready for this? He did. He slapped her on the face. She said it wasn't very hard but it scared her.
Poor GiGi told me she wanted to cry really bad but didn't.
She asked her friend to swap places with her. Once on the inside, near the window, she was left alone.
I'm so mad, I'm spitting venom out of my eyeballs.
Was this child raised by a pack of wolves?
If it had happened to Holland or Reese-- this kid would need a stretcher-- but Greer is my sweet, sensitive child.
I plan on calling the principal and the transportation department to make the bus driver aware. But, alas, I will stop it at that. I promise not to hunt down some punky grade schooler and slap him back.