Ian’s stomach virus erupted at 2:00 am. This is going to sound sick, but when he’s all feverish and spaced out, I get a lot of work done. All he’s fit for is repeated viewings of Elmo, so I set up my lap top at the dining room table. I’m taking a break from the puke-workathon to quickly mention that I’ve read about the damn Indigo children twice in the last 12 hours, and I want them to go away.

The New Yorker had a long rambling, pointless article about a gifted kid who blows his head off. The author really wanted to write that he was just too brilliant for our little world and exited early, but didn’t quite get there. In this article, the child’s mother speculates that her child was an Indigo.

There’s also an article in the Times about it today. Who are these kids? They’re smart, hyperactive, and paranormal.

“To me these children are the answers to the prayers we all have for peace,” said Doreen Virtue, a former psychotherapist for adolescents who now writes books and lectures on indigo children. She calls the indigos a leap in human evolution. “They’re vigilant about cleaning the earth of social ills and corruption, and increasing integrity,” Ms. Virtue said. “Other generations tried, but then they became apathetic. This generation won’t, unless we drug them into submission with Ritalin.”

Does anybody believe this stuff?

(A longer rant about gifted education is brewing.)