Molly and Bill huddled around the foldable table, poring over the blueprint of the venue. The bold, childish font on the diagram read "Bouncy Kingdom: The Ultimate Children's Party Destination". "Who throws a kid's birthday party at a bounce house?" Bill asked, scratching his head. "Someone who wants to funnel a small fortune into mediocre pizza and ball pits," Molly replied, tapping her pen on the blueprint. "The real payload is the presents, anyway." Bill's eyes widened. "Think about it: a room full of sugar-addled kids, oblivious parents, and a pile of gifts just begging to be swiped." Molly grinned. "All we need to do is blend in with the chaos and swap our loot bags for the real deal." "Are you insane? We can't just walk in dressed as party clowns," Bill said, skeptical. "We need disguises that scream 'I'm a responsible adult, not a nefarious gift thief'." "Ah, but that's the beauty of it," Molly said. "I've rented us a pair of prosthetic mom and dad masks. We'll be unrecognizable." Bill raised an eyebrow. "Prosthetic masks? You're really investing in this con, aren't you?" "I've even pre-programmed our 'concerned parent' phrases," Molly said, holding up a small piece of paper. "'Is Timmy having fun?' or 'Does anyone know where the juice boxes are?' It's foolproof." Bill chuckled. "I love it. But what's the exit strategy?" Molly's eyes sparkled. "I've got a guy who owes me a favor. We're having a fake cake delivered to the party as a 'gift' from a 'generous aunt'. When it gets wheeled in, we create a diversion and swap the cake box with the presents. Easy peasy." Bill whistled. "And what about the little bundles of joy themselves? We can't just leave them unentertained while we make our escape." Molly winked. "I've prepared a special ' emergency gift' – a crate of 'artisanal, handcrafted' Whoopie Frooties. It'll be a candy-fueled frenzy. They'll never even notice we're gone." The unlikely partners shared a mischievous chuckle, visions of bouncing children and pocketed loot dancing in their heads. Molly leaned in, her voice taking on a conspiratorial tone. "Remember the rules: we go in at 2 p.m., cake arrives at 2:45, and by 3 p.m., we're rolling out with the goods. Ready to make some birthday magic... disappear?" Bill gave her a sly grin. "As ready as I'll ever be."