“Alright, Molly, let me get this straight—our grand heist is… a kids’ birthday party?” “Precisely, Bill. The birthday bash of the century. Sugar-high chaos, distracted parents, and mountain-loads of presents.” “You do realize the only thing I’ve ever stolen was Grandma’s fruitcake, right? And even that left me with a papercut.” “Relax. This isn’t about finesse. It’s about speed and blending in. Think about it—balloons, cake, noise, sticky fingers everywhere.” “Sticky fingers? That sounds like a warning, not an advantage.” “Bill, think bigger! While everyone’s busy singing ‘Happy Birthday,’ we’ll swipe every toy, game, and action figure faster than you can say ‘piñata.’” “But how do we get in? Last time I tried sneaking into a party, I tripped over my own foot and face-planted into Aunt Linda’s fruit punch.” “Simple. We dress as clowns. No one questions clowns at kids’ parties.” “Clowns? Molly, last time you were a clown, you scared the neighbor’s kid for three days.” “Details, Bill. Details. This time, I’m the sweet, balloon-twisting kind. You’re the silent, mysterious mime.” “A mime? I barely know how to talk, now you want me to not talk at all? That’s sabotage.” “Exactly! You’re perfect. Now, tie your shoes tighter. We’ve got presents to pilfer and a party to crash.”