In the shadow of a plastic jungle gym under the sickly glow of string lights, Molly and Bill crouched, surveying the enemy territory: a backyard teeming with pint-sized pirates, glittering princesses, and a menagerie of sugar-fueled chaos. Balloons bobbed in the humid air, acting as sentries in their own right. The present table—a mountainous pile of gaudy wrapping and curly bows—beckoned like a neon beacon. Bill checked his pocket, ensuring his “disguise”—a cracked Batman mask—was ready for action. Molly nudged him. “You look like my Aunt Sharon.” “Your Aunt Sharon’s got style,” Bill whispered, shifting. “Focus. Step one, distract the clown.” He glanced over at Giggles, who was juggling with the desperation of someone who’d just learned children throw things back. “What about the dog?” “Laser pointer. We lure it away.” “Nefarious.” Molly sized up the horde. “The kid in the dinosaur suit, all muscle. He guards the punch bowl.” Bill groaned. “Can we bribe him?” Molly produced three gummy worms. “This should buy his loyalty.” He frowned. “High stakes.” Together, they scooted toward the cake table. “Operation Present Pilfer starts now,” Molly declared. Bill grinned, though his mask slipped sideways. “Let’s get wrapping.”