"I don't love your kid.You know the one:
That kid who's allowed to chase his brother around the grocery store while screaming bloody murder and knocking over chip racks and those geriatric gals with the walkers.
That kid who's having a prolonged hissy fit in a fine dining establishment, ignored by parents who believe she needs to "work it out herself" rather than intervene for the sake of ambiance, fellow diners and the sanity of the wait staff.
That kid who gleefully dances in bare feet atop the lobby coffee table of a chi-chi country club while her parents assault passersby with those "Isn't she cute?" grins. No, she isn't. Get her off the table and into some shoes.
That kid who is the white-hot flaming center of every conversation with parents who extol each talent, skill, accomplishment, latest funny thing, every breath they take as if history is being made. He/she's swell, but how about we refocus on the visiting lecturer we invited to this shindig?"