The dim light of the cramped storage room flickered as Molly shifted the oversized rabbit ears on her head and frowned at the cluster of balloons bobbing by the ceiling. Bill, crouched behind a stack of plastic chairs, was jotting down notes with exaggerated seriousness. “You can’t seriously think this is the best plan,” Molly said, tugging the floppy ears down over her eyes. “Breaking into a kids’ birthday party? What, are you planning to distract them with balloon animals and candy?” Bill didn’t look up. “Exactly. You underestimate the power of a well-crafted balloon dog. Besides, where else are you going to find piles of untouched presents just lying around?” Molly scoffed. “Yeah, because children never open their presents right away. You’re just hoping for a nap time jackpot.” Bill smiled. “Nap time is the sacred window. Two to three PM. Guaranteed silence, except for the occasional crumpled tissue or muffled sniffle.” Molly shook her head. “This is insane. You know what happens if Mrs. Jenkins catches us? That woman’s scary enough to make burglars turn themselves in.” Bill tapped his pen on the clipboard. “That’s why we’re not burglars. We’re... party crashers with a very specific shopping list.” “A shopping list that sounds creepy.” She glanced over at the half-inflated party hats. “So, what’s the actual plan? Besides you making balloon animals?” Bill straightened up, enthusiasm bubbling. “We blend in. I’m the clown, obviously.” He pointed to his face painted with jabs of red and blue. “You? You’re the magician’s assistant. Disappear behind a curtain, come out with the goods.” “Molly raises an eyebrow. “I’m the magician’s assistant? I thought I was supposed to be the brave getaway driver.” “Not if we get caught with the loot. You need plausible deniability,” Bill said, tapping his nose. “Plus, you can do card tricks. Remember last Christmas?” “Yeah, but this isn’t Christmas. It’s a five-year-old’s birthday. They don’t care about card tricks. They want cake and sugar highs.” Bill shrugged. “All the more reason to keep them distracted.” Molly crossed her arms. “Alright, Balloon Boy, what’s the entry point? We can’t just stroll through the front door with party hats and expect no questions.” Bill grinned. “Side yard. There’s a small gap in the fence behind the garage. I scoped it out earlier. Careful sneaking in, then follow the trail of confetti to the backyard.” Molly groaned. “Confetti trail? You’re setting us up for glitter hell.” “Glitter is the currency of distraction,” Bill replied, eyes twinkling. “It sticks, it sparkles, and no one notices the missing presents until it’s too late.” Molly sighed, rubbing her temples. “You’re insane.” “And you’re the best partner I could ask for,” Bill said, standing up and offering her a hand. “Ready to make some magic—and a quick getaway?” Molly hesitated, then took his hand. “Only if you promise no balloon animals. I’m allergic to latex.” Bill laughed, pulling her upright. “Deal. But if I have to juggle instead, you’re on cleanup duty.” As they slipped out of the storage room, Molly muttered, “This was definitely not the plan I had for my afternoon.” Bill winked. “Trust me, it’s going to be a party.”