Molly crouched behind the dumpster, checking her watch. “Okay, Bill, timing is everything. The cake’s at 3:15, gifts open at 3:30, chaos peak at 3:45.” Bill adjusted his tiny clown nose, which was supposed to be his disguise. “Why do I have to wear this thing? I look like a walking red balloon.” “Because, dear Bill,” Molly whispered, “it’s the perfect cover. No one suspects the guy who looks like he’s about to entertain five-year-olds.” Bill sighed. “Fine. But if a kid asks me to juggle, I’m out.” Molly pulled out a crudely drawn floor plan. “We sneak in through the side, grab the presents before they’re opened, and vanish before the sugar-high hits.” “And what about the parents?” Bill squinted at the map. “There’s a lot of them.” “We charm ’em,” Molly grinned. “You hand out balloons, I create a diversion.” Bill raised an eyebrow. “You mean set off that ridiculous fake spider again?” “Exactly,” Molly said, eyes twinkling. “Nothing causes panic like a plastic spider on a stick.” Bill shook his head. “Alright, Molly. For the presents...and because I hate piñatas.” Molly smiled. “Operation Sugar Heist is a go.”