It’s never okay to hit my kid

On a recent cross country flight, I had an opportunity to test my own mommy manners. Both children were quietly watching a movie when the man on the aisle in front of me informed me that my daughter, who was seated near the window, was kicking the woman in front of her.

I found this feedback surprising as my daughter knows the rules and never kicks the seat in front of her. Nonetheless, I stopped the movie and reminded both children not to kick the seats. I thought all was well until a flight attendant told me that my daughter was kicking the seat. At this, I put down my book and focused all my attention on my daughter’s feet. No kicking.
The next thing I knew, I saw a hand reach around from the seat in front of her and start smacking my daughter’s feet as they rested on the bottom of the seat in front of her. Not just once, but twice, three times.
“Ouch,” my daughter recoiled, pulling her feet away. After I had calmed my daughter and gave clearer instructions not to put her feet anywhere near the seat in front of her, I reviewed the situation.
Throughout the entire flight, the woman never actually addressed me. She asked the man in front of me and the flight attendant to pass on messages. Since she choose not to communicate directly, the message got jumbled. My daughter, it turns out, was not kicking the seat, but resting her feet in a way that was uncomfortable for the gal sitting in front of her. Since I was focused on kicking, I didn’t even look for feet resting.

But the more concerning aspect was that when she did choose to interact directly, it was with violence, not words. As I reviewed my options, I tried to find a way to let her know that I wanted to both ensure her comfort and my daughter’s safety.
When she came back from a trip to the restroom, I engaged her as politely as I could:
ME: “Hi, I noticed you were hitting my child’s feet. I obviously do not want her to be disrespectful to other passengers, but I would prefer if you talk to me about it before hitting her. She’s five and there are better ways to communicate with her than hitting.”
OTHER PASSENGER: “She was kicking the back of my seat and it really hurt”
ME: “I would never want my child to hurt another person. If you had talked to me, I would have stopped it. Unfortunately, the message I received was that she was kicking. But she wasn’t kicking, she was pressing against the seat and I didn’t even know that was bothering you.

OTHER PASSENGER: “It was too hard to turn around in the seat and talk to you.”
ME: What I was thinking: “it’s too tough to turn around and talk to me but not too tough to reach around and hit my child”
ME: What I said: “I want to make sure you are comfortable, but I also need to keep my child safe. If there is a problem, have the man next to you tell me and I will walk around to speak to you, but please do not hit my child”
OTHER PASSENGER: “I’m sorry”
ME: Victory Dance.
I didn’t raise my voice, I didn’t lay blame, I merely communicated my needs – that she talk to me directly and not hit my daughter and she heard me and responded politely. On my victory lap to the restrooms, I asked the flight attendants for their take on these kinds of situations. Not surprisingly, they told me that they have seen seat kicking incidents escalate where the police needed to be summoned upon landing.
Have you ever experienced or observed similar craziness in the air? How did you handle it? What was the outcome?