No, it’s not an indigo child. It’s not special just because it’s annoying as hell. In all likeliness, it also doesn’t have ADHD despite what your family physician told you when he prescribed amphetamines. He probably just didn’t like you (or your kid), but I digress. A spoiled brat does not make a saviour of worlds. It is not the herald of a New Age™ just because some parapsychologists have been writing about purple-bluish auras since the 80s.
Educating people about your child’s True Nature while it is dismantling a bookshelf, throwing around Riedel glasses, or not getting out of the damn way is not sane. Screaming bloody murder when people chuckle at your “creative” understanding of reality is not sensible behaviour. Them people will feel justified at best or, in the worst case, publish rants about it on the wobble.
“Indigo” children’s psychological features are easily explained by neurology or by your over-dramatisation of totally normal behaviour patterns. It’s more likely, though, that you just suck at parenting.
Sure, it’s easier to go all spiritualist and paranormal. The kid’s an asshole, but hey, I’m not responsible. It was the great [add higher power of choice] who deemed my child the harbinger of cosmic peace and harmony. By acting like a little shit, which I encourage at all times. Because if my child’s special, so am I, its parent. I rock! I didn’t fail!
Reality check: Every child is special. Using faulty upbringing or neglecting your child’s possible neurological or mental disorder, perhaps foregoing life-saving treatment, might be the most egotistical move a grown-up can make. Egotistical, yet stupid: You’re feeding a growing industry of crazies with your Dollars, Euros and Swiss Francs. Not that “special”, now, are you?