My Facebook feed has been blowing up over the past 24 hours with all kinds of videos, images and well wishes from our community. It started last night with a video from a family that has been walking alongside us – then a text message from the principal of Julia’s school telling all of the students to wear their craziest pair of socks as the beginning of a more intentional celebration for a sliver of their community.

It’s World Down Syndrome Day – the one day of the year it is universally cool to be a friend of someone with Ds! So allow me to put on my “crazy socks” and tell you a little more of what’s going on from the perspective of a man whose life got ambushed by a little girl with an extra chromosome hitchin’ a ride with the typical 21st pair.

If you’ve been hanging around my social media feeds for any time at all, you’ve been acquainted with Julia. As a freelance photographer, I try to regularly put out a picture to let folks know how she’s growing. You’ve seen her through the walker stage into preschool, the endless hours of therapies, and the ubiquitous “giraffe horn” hair buns that Jocelyn fashioned to keep her from chewing on her hair.

We’ve received unceasing encouragement from all of you over the years – from the comments on how cute and precious she is to the challenges we hear from you to press on through the adversity of navigating the bureaucracy of service providers to get her the help she needs. Sometimes I even wonder if Julia’s social media following outpaces Jocelyn’s and mine combined! Such is the life of a little girl with her own entourage of stylist (Jocelyn) and publicist (me).

But even with the love we get from our community, I’ve noticed a change in the way strangers interact with her. There is now just a tiny minority of people who don’t quite know what to do with Julia when she busts into her ballet routine in the middle of a crowded mall or expresses her still inarticulate but very clear frustration with directions. Don’t get me wrong – there are still loads of smiles and comments on how beautiful she is. But sometimes I hear the unspoken “… for a kid with Ds” at the end of the compliment. There is a quiet standard I hear that seems to be applied to all school age kids where “typical” becomes “normal” and “normal” slides into “expected” and these young souls are filed on to the treadmill of striving and competition that will follow them through adulthood. It’s an atmosphere that my kid just isn’t built for.

We’re getting to the stage where, just like any kid her age, Julia’s innate cuteness is starting to wear off and the real differences (along with some of the attendant social embarrassment) are becoming more pronounced. Julia is very tentative and even fearful of high-energy situations that she’s unfamiliar with. She is a creature of habit whose desire for quiet and television time can torpedo an evening social gathering. And we are still fighting for every syllable in her speech therapy – the progress is real, but painfully slow.

I’m sure that some of this is due to my own hang-ups. I still have to remind myself that despite a world bent on progress and its hostility toward anything or anyone that isn’t economically value added, there are people – lots and lots of people – who know that value isn’t solely measured by productive output. There are those wonderful people who love the differently abled for their intrinsic humanity and not the packaging they come in. They’re willing to bear with our Julia because she belongs to them as well – no matter what her mood happens to offer up at the moment.

One thing you know you’re going to get: pure, unfiltered, no-hidden-agenda Julia. Sometimes impolite, other times a fist bump or a hug – all of it is very, very real. This kid has no guile and you never have to wonder what she is feeling. And in a world full of agendas and deception, that can be as refreshing as it is frustrating; because with every interaction, I have to decide if I am going to press my agenda or enter into her simple desires.

Julia forces me to step off the treadmill of my agenda and engage with hers. She encourages me to be a little less selfish and reminds me that my story is only a part of the larger story. How can that be a bad thing?

So here’s to our girl – with all of her love, simplicity and challenges. With a community like you behind us, we get to experience the love and support of World Down Syndrome Day all year round!