"We're really doing this, aren't we?" Bill asked, adjusting the oversized bow tie around his neck. "Dressed like this?" Molly, squeezed into a frilly pink tutu, raised an eyebrow at him. "What, this doesn't scream 'Happy 8th Birthday, Timmy' to you?" "It screams 'Inexperienced Bank Robbers Who Got Desperate,'" Bill muttered. "Hey, those bouncy castles aren't gonna rob themselves, grandpa. Now, remember the plan?" "Blend in, grab the loot, escape during the sugar rush." Molly snapped her fingers. "Wrong! It's a pinata, not a bank vault. We wait for the kid to open presents, swap 'em with decoys, and slip out during the thank-you card writing." "Sounds risky." "Bill," Molly said, her voice low, "we're talking about ten-year-olds high on cake and sugar. Trust me, we'll be invisible."