Molly traced her finger across the colorful swirls on the invitation. "A bouncy castle?" "Industrially reinforced," Bill confirmed, adjusting his wire-rimmed glasses. "That's how they keep those ankle-biters from launching themselves into orbit." "And the catering?" "Twenty gallons of organic fruit punch. Why?" Molly grinned, tossing the invitation onto the table. "Because, my friend, it sounds like we're crashing a party." "Molly, we discussed this. It's immoral. Those kids are innocent." Molly raised an eyebrow. "And loaded with grandparents who buy extravagant gifts. Come on, Bill, where's your sense of adventure? Besides, we'll blend right in. We'll be the creepy, childless adults lurking by the snack table."