Hold The Sprinkles

The Dallas Buddy Walk® is a fundraising event by the Down Syndrome Guild of Dallas (DSG) taking place on Sunday, October 20 at Toyota FC Dallas Stadium in Frisco, Texas. The event will feature family-friendly activities and an awareness walk to show support for Everett and more than 400,000 other individuals with Down syndrome in the U.S.
We invite you to join our team of supporters and walk with us! If you aren’t able to join us in person, we encourage you to donate to our team and assist in raising funds that support vital programs including providing information, education programs, resources, and support to more than 2,200 people with Down syndrome and their families. A portion of the funds will also support the National Down Syndrome Society for advocacy and public awareness initiatives.

Consider joining our team and making a tax-deductible donation today taking the first steps toward helping us achieve our goal. Thank you for your love, friendship & support!

WHY “HOLD THE SPRINKLES?”

It’s two fold.

Be it a cupcake, cake slice, donut or ice cream cone, Everett will inevitably confirm with you “NO sprinkles.” at least three times as you order. And should an ill-fated sprinkle happen to grace the top of a perfectly iced cupcake or sneak into a folded layer of buttercream—you will be rudely informed that it must be removed. Immediately.

The second reason requires my soap box which I will eagerly leap up on.
Everett and his peers in the disability community don’t need all this extra societal sugar coating. In fact, the euphemisms, saccharine storytelling, and cute catchphrases contribute to the ableist culture, stigmas and stereotypes we are actively trying to correct. (And I say this without judgement; I’ve been guilty of this as well.)

When we can’t readily connect with someone or something, we often try to change it. We soften it. We redress it. We shuffle the language. We edit out all but the prettiest, the most hopeful, the most inspiring, the highest achieving bits. We add sprinkles. Until it’s more likeable, more palatable, more contained, more like us. More comfortable for us. 

And in doing so, we strip away the uniqueness of the human experience. 
I hope everyone experiences delight and joy daily. It is true, when Everett is joyful the world is joyful. He radiates it to the point it’s contagious—we still get the grandest greeting and tightest squeeze upon his daily return home from school and he will celebrate as your biggest fan when a teammate scores on the ice. His love is authentic love. No agenda. But Everett lives at the extremes of emotions, so with profound joy there is deep bossiness and control seeking and stubbornness. We all have our “&,” right? He is a keen observer with great comprehension and he is also impulsive and struggles in common social settings. 

I ask that we see Everett and others with disabilities authentically as they are. I ask that we make space for them. We provide education on inclusivity and disabilities in our homes and in our schools. That we provide representation in our conversation groups and in the media we consume. And I ask that we let the individuals with disabilities lead this. Everett and I chatter about millions of topics. But this is a conversation that we will develop over time and I look forward to the moment where my role evolves from parent-advocate to Everett’s echo. 

Everett is an incredibly curious, social, fun-loving, dramatic, sometimes bossy and stubborn, nine-year-old boy who is exploring his independence and this world with big, bright eyes. And as you know, Everett has Down syndrome. It is a disability and one facet to who he is. My dream for Everett, and his sister, is to invent yourself. Write your story. And use your biggest imagination in the process.