Molly leaned over the blueprints, spread across the sticky tabletop of their usual diner booth. “Alright, let’s review,” she declared, pushing her sunglasses up her nose. “Operation Sugar Rush: TheSchematic. We hit ‘Rainbow Dreams: Princess Penelope’s Seventh Extravaganza’ at precisely 3:30.” Bill, sporting a tweed blazer and a jaunty neckerchief, raised an eyebrow. “Penelope, huh? Seven years old and already demanding extravagant themes? Spoiled rotten.” “Don’t judge the clientele, Billy-boy. We’re here for the loot,” Molly scooped a handful of fries into her mouth, “and judging by the guest list, this ain’t your average low-rent pony ride affair. Parents with cash are dripping off the RSVP list. We’re talking diamond-encrusted tiaras, diamond-studded pony shoes, probably a diamond-encrusted bouncy castle for all we know.” Bill snatched a fry from her plate. “Sounds glamorous. And what exactly is our skillset contributing to this glamorous heist?” “You, my dear Bill, are the master of distraction.” Molly nudged a photograph leaning against a ketchup bottle. It showcased a younger Bill, dressed as a giant bumblebee, hamming it up in front of a screaming child wearing a Spiderman mask. “Clown College finally paid off. You’ll be ‘Buzz the Bee,’ Penelope’s favourite entertainer, charming the socks off those sugar-crazed toddlers while I…” “While you blend in with the parade of designer strollers and rosy-cheeked minions to snag the presents?” “Bingo. This ain’t my first rodeo with a tiara. Remember the Duchess’s diamond poodle fiasco?” Bill shuddered. “Let’s not bring up the poodle fiasco, Mo. Trauma, remember?” “Fine, fine. Point is, we’re going in stealthy, we’re going in quick, and we’re getting out with enough loot to swap that beat-up Vespa for a vintage convertible with a diamond-studded steering wheel.” Bill snorted. “Maybe a convertible’s pushing it, don’t you think?” Molly grinned mischievously. “Maybe. But a girl can dream, can’t she?” She tapped the blueprint. “So, the entrance is through the back, past the inflatable slide and somewhere near the…” Bill squinted at the page. “The glitter cannon? Seriously? Who needs that much glitter?” “More importantly,” Molly pointed at a smaller, red circle marked ‘Security’. “We need to avoid Sir Reginald, the nine-foot-tall ex-military bouncer with a fondness for polka-dot bows. Any suggestions for diversion?” Bill paused for a moment, eyes twinkling. “What about a rogue balloon animal attack? It worked wonders at Mrs. Higgins' garden party.” “Now you’re talking.” Molly tapped her finger on the table. “Operation Sugar Rush is a go.”