An invitation for every kind of gathering.

It took all of Sunday. Come admire them, and wear the ugly sweater you pretend not to own.

Six dozen sugar cookies are waiting to be iced. Aprons provided; sprinkles end up everywhere.

Songbooks provided. Mittens strongly advised. We finish at the Dahls’ with cocoa.

Come in last night’s sequins. The first pancake always comes out ugly, so Zeno eats it.

Applesauce vs. sour cream, settled at last.

Claim a dish in the group chat. We’ve got the turkey.

Porch light on means candy inside. Chili at the Ketterings’ when the buckets are full.

Bring a side. Kofi has the sparklers.

Streamers at the start, popsicles at the finish. Training wheels very welcome.

Bite the coin dumpling, win the year.

Colours and samosas provided.

Two hundred eggs in the orchard, one painted gold. Paul hid them and has already lost track of three.

Bring six dozen of one kind and an empty tin. Grandma Kowalczyk judges, and she is not nice about it.

Pre-baked walls, buckets of icing and zero rules about structural integrity.

Gelt is the only currency.

Platforms encouraged, glitter tolerated. The ball drops from our ceiling at midnight.