Preschool field trip=hell

Today I was a supervising parent for Kate's field trip to the dinosaur museum. I was in charge of Kate and two other girls, one of whom who will be heretofore known as "H." This is foreshadowing because this whole entry will be about H. On the way to the museum, I was playing a little country music, and H informed me, "I like the old Rascal Flatts better." As in the Rascal Flatts that came out when she was three versus the crap they've released while she's been four.
We make it to the museum which was not an adventure until a child not with our group squeezed my behind. Before you start to compose your comment about how it was surely an accident, let me present to you the following evidence:

There was palm (his) to cheek (mine) contact.
There was a definite squeezing motion.
When I turned around his father wouldn't look me in the eye.

I wanted to scream, "Your kid is a nasty pervert!" but had to satisfy myself with a dirty look.
After the rest of our visit, I took my charges out to the car. H is apparently used to keyless entry (mine is missing) because she immediately tried to open the door of my car even though the keys weren't even out of my purse. To express her frustration at not being immediately able to enter the car she uttered the "F Word." Fortunately Kate and the other innocent were on the driver's side and out of earshot.
On the way home, Kate and "G" chattered innocently about the childhood dreams ("I want to be a dentist." "I want to be Lava Girl."). H interrupted with the following (and frankly, I think it explains a lot): "Last time my dad went crazy he took us to Wendover."

Shall I call social services????

I also took the girls to Costco, and on the way home I was talking to Bruce about how I never swear out loud anymore. At that precise moment, a woman pulled out in front of me, and OF COURSE I screamed, "I'm turning left, you stupid *&%$#!" Yes, Bruce totally heard, so whoopsy...