Molly hunched over the crumpled invitation, her flashlight’s beam wobbling over a cartoon dinosaur with a birthday hat. “See this, Bill? That’s our mark. Eight years old and already swimming in gifts. Little tycoon.” Bill peered over her shoulder, chewing a toothpick. “Dinosaurs, eh? I always preferred pirates. Pirates never had to worry about gluten-free cake.” “Focus, Bill. There are presents stacked floor to ceiling—Legos, mystery eggs, probably an army of action figures. We steal them, fence them to my cousin, and boom. Payday.” He wagged the toothpick. “And get mauled by a gang of sugar-crazed second-graders? Not exactly my ideal retirement plan.” “Look, the parents will be tipsy off boxed Chardonnay and the magician’s got a record. We walk in, blend, snatch, and vanish before anyone asks who we’re related to.” Molly jabbed the invitation for emphasis. Bill pursed his lips. “Walk in as what, exactly? Party clowns?” “Who said anything about clowns?” Molly retorted. “I’m not squeezing into a tutu for your benefit. Not again.” She swatted at him. “We go in as balloon animal artists. I’ll twist a mean giraffe. You work the crowd. While they’re distracted, I’ll fill the big sack.” He eyed her. “That plan has more holes than my socks. For example, what if they ask for a poodle and you hand them a very abstract snake?” “Flair, Bill. Kids these days appreciate interpretive balloon work.” He shook his head. “And the presents? Those things are guarded like Fort Knox by every vigilant grandmother in the tri-county area. You can’t out-cute a grandma. It’s science.” She flashed a wicked grin. “That’s where you come in. You charm the grannies. Tell them you’re the world’s fastest balloon tie-er. Maybe toss in a tragic backstory.” “That one about my parrot getting abducted by a traveling circus?” He tilted his head. “Exactly. Extra points if you tear up a little.” He produced a lone onion from his jacket pocket. “Never leave home unprepared.” “Perfect. Meanwhile, I’m in the gift pile, swapping the haul for a crate of decoy boxes filled with rocks and socks.” “Socks are a theme tonight, huh?” Bill quipped. “They’ll never know until it’s too late.” Molly leaned in, lowering her voice theatrically. “By the time they realize, we’ll be halfway to Aunt Valerie’s storage locker.” He grinned. “You’ve truly thought of everything. Except for the cake. You know I can’t resist cake.” “If you take the cake, we’re both done for. Besides, the real loot’s in the presents.” He sighed dramatically. “Alright, but if anyone asks, I’m only in it for the stickers.” “Deal.” Molly slapped his back. “Now, what about the getaway?” He snapped his fingers. “Tricycles. Untraceable. Quick. Nobody suspects a grown man with streamers on the handlebars.” “If you get me a unicorn helmet, I’m in.” He clapped his hands together. “Done. Tomorrow, we infiltrate. Right after nap time.” She saluted him. “By this time tomorrow, we’ll be rich in fun-size slime kits and remote-control sharks.” Bill winked. “Just call me the Piñata Phantom from now on.”