An invitation for every kind of gathering.

We rented the whole cinema. Her favorite film at nine, popcorn by the bucket.

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

Her dad has volunteered for the dunk tank. Three throws a ticket.

Come in a swimsuit. The big duck is his; every other toy is for sharing.

Bring a sleeping bag. Pickup is Sunday at ten.

Rental shoes required.

She turns thirty-one on eight wheels. Skate rental is included.

We’ll have lunch by the penguin pool. Strollers welcome.

The jellyfish room is quiet if you need a minute.

The ewes started lambing last week. Boots by the barn door.

The parlor is closed to everyone but us.

Zuzana's baby shower. Cake gone by two.

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.

She taught three generations of Redwood kids to read. Come say thank you.

At sundown on the roof. Shaken hard and poured cold, the way the Keys like them.

Bring a swimsuit. We grow the grapefruit.

Dig out the polyester. There will be a cheese ball, and it will be rolled in pecans.

We buried a whole skeleton in the sandbox. Bring a bucket.

Swim tails welcome. Towels and treasure provided.

X marks the cake. Eye patches at the gangway.

Come sparkly. The piñata gets its turn right after cake.

Our wild one turns one. Come roar along.

Bring your controller. Pizza at halftime.

Unlimited pinball until the quarters run out. Pizza at five.

Bring your classic car if you have one. The cake is shaped like a hubcap.

She's out for coffee until 6:30. Shoes off, lights low.

Sunscreen on, towels out. Popsicles at three.

Eighteen holes, one windmill.

Cider by the woodstove, then a slow walk to look for chanterelles.

Wear your coziest sweater. Pumpkin bread and cider are waiting.

She has the crib already. Bring diapers, advice for two, and room for cake.

The doctor's envelope went straight to the bakery. Marta and Tomasz cut the cake at four.

Rubber ducks on every table.

Clementine mimosas, orange cake, and a crate of fruit to take home.

Plates are on us. Bring advice.

Diploma in hand. Now dance in the driveway.

Coffee and a donut on us, then stay for the slideshow at ten.

There will be jollof. There will be dancing. You should come.

No charting tonight. Just cake.

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.

Sunday brunch at ten. They puff up in the oven and fall the moment they hit the table.

Fresh-squeezed until one, and the waffle iron is already hot.

Lawn chairs welcome. Sprinkler for the kids, cooler for everyone else.

The oven’s been heating since lunch. Bring a topping and we’ll fire it.

A zero-proof garden party. Nothing we pour has alcohol in it, and nobody will miss it.

On the sand at four. Bring a towel; we’ll bring the machete and the rum.

Cardigans encouraged. Aunt June’s lime mold is making a comeback.

Same trailer the whole way. Bring a camp chair; there’s cake by the hitch.

Hal’s ’57 will be parked in row one. Honk when you arrive.

Fifty-five years married. Vern brings a roll of dimes; Gloria knows what he’ll play first.

The fondue pot they got in 1977 is back in service.

Bring a cutting if you have one. We have so many pots.

Pull up a box. Help us decide where the couch goes.

Walt clocks out after 33 years. Bring a lure.

Loser does the dishes. Winner picks next month’s game.

A 2,000-piece lighthouse is waiting. So are three kinds of pie.

Slam your tiles gently. Auntie’s rules apply.

Wear your reunion shirt. Bring a dish your grandmother would approve of.

Bring spare seeds. Tomato talk at seven sharp.

The spring carnival, the playground fund and next year’s budget. Childcare in the art room.

For Mara Sundquist: a waffle bar and one very short toast.

Bring your best story about the bride.

Bikes optional. Snacks required.

Flat shoes for the lawn. Eamon's aunt has never lost a match.