Molly hunched over the kitchen table, spreading out the crude crayon drawing of the Johnson residence. Her red hair fell across her face as she traced the route with a chipped fingernail. "So the presents will be stacked here," she said, jabbing at a scribbled rectangle labeled 'living room' in wobbly letters. "Right by the bouncy castle." Bill slurped his coffee noisily, his weathered face scrunched in concentration. "What about the clown?" "What clown?" "There's always a clown at these things." Molly sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Bill, focus. We're not here for balloon animals." Bill's eyes widened. "Wait—do you think they'll have those goodie bags? With the little toys and candy?" "For God's sake," Molly muttered, rolling up the plans with unnecessary force. "The presents are the target. In and out while they're singing Happy Birthday." "Fine, fine," Bill grumbled, brushing cookie crumbs from his black sweater. "But if there's cake left..." Molly glared at him, sliding the plans into her backpack alongside a pair of Disney princess masks. "No cake. No clowns. Just presents."