“Bill, do you have the balloon animal disguise ready?” “Molly, I made three. One’s a dog, one’s a giraffe, and I think the third is supposed to be a snake, but it’s just a sausage.” “As long as it covers your face, we’re good. Did you check the guest list?” “Of course. Twelve children, four adults, and one perpetually suspicious grandma named Ruth.” “Ruth? The one from the bake sale heist?” “The very same. Her bun is tighter than our alibis. We’ll need to distract her.” “I’ve got that covered. I bring out the old whoopee cushion routine, and she’ll be occupied scolding me for an hour.” “What about the actual presents, Molly? Where do they keep them?” “In a pile next to the clown, under the Batman piñata. I scoped it this morning, pretending to deliver snacks.” “You delivered snacks? Since when do you cook?” “If you call cheese puffs cooked. Bill, focus! The main event is present-opening at two. We strike at one-fifty-five.” “Five minutes window? That’s tight.” “Tighter than Ruth’s bun, as previously mentioned. Now, entry. Front door is a no. We’d be up to our ears in sticky cake and amateur magicians.” “Back window, then?” “Back window above the dog door. I fit. You…well…maybe with a little lubrication.” “You calling me fat?” “I’m calling you loyal and hearty. Bring butter, just in case.” “I prefer margarine. So we get inside, you distract Ruth, I grab presents, we meet by the bouncy castle.” “No, bouncy castle is out. Kids won’t leave that thing alone. We rendezvous by the rubber ducks, next to the garden.” “And then—exit plan?” “Tricycles, Bill.” “Tricycles?” “No one suspects adults fleeing on children’s tricycles. We’ll blend right in.” “My knees are already protesting. Remind me why we’re stealing presents at a children’s party again?” “Because, my dear Bill, those presents are worth a fortune. Limited edition action figures, vintage board games, and, rumor has it, a prototype RoboDuck.” “RoboDuck? The one that lays golden chocolate eggs?” “The very same. Imagine, a year’s supply of chocolate, and that’s just the inside job. The parents are all loaded, so the loot is sweet.” “What about the clown? You said something about a clown.” “Yes, but he’s juggling flaming swords at two. We keep clear unless we want a haircut courtesy of third-degree burns.” “Alright, quick recap. Balloon animal disguises, dog door entry, distract Ruth with whoopee cushion, presents under Batman piñata, out by rubber ducks, escape via tricycles. Did I miss anything?” “Only the most important rule—don’t eat the cake. Last time, you nearly blew our cover with a frosting moustache.” “A man has to eat, Molly. Crime burns calories.” “Just try to look less suspicious this time. And if Ruth starts telling you about her cats, nod and back away slowly.” “Got it. Weapon of choice for this heist?” “My devastating charm and a rubber chicken.” “I’ll take the sausage balloon. We’re going to need all the luck we can get.” “Oh Bill, it’s not luck. It’s years of ill-advised larceny disguised as party entertainment.” “Then let’s go crash a party.” “But politely. We do have standards.” “Of course. We’re about to steal childhood dreams, might as well do it with a smile.”