“Bill, let’s run through this again. I open the clown door, you toss the glitter bomb, and we grab the swag, right?” “Molly, for the last time, it’s not a bomb, it’s a festive distraction device. Glitter bomb sounds like we’re villains. We’re… opportunists.” “Oh, sure, because dressing as a ten-foot dinosaur screams subtlety.” “Hey, the hire-a-saurus costume is genius. No one suspects a brachiosaurus of grand larceny. That’s criminal science.” “That’s criminally stupid. Is the zipper fixed?” “Halfway. If it malfunctions, you’ll have to peel me, like a banana.” “Right. Add backup scissors to the list. Okay: timeline. The cake gets cut at 2:42. Seven crying toddlers at 2:45. Chaos at 2:46.” “You’re betting on toddler emotional volatility.” “I’m counting on it. I’ve never trusted anyone under three feet tall.” “Fair. So, after the cake, we make for the gift table. How do we explain taking the presents?” “Improvisation, Bill. You ever tried to reason with a five-year-old in a sugar haze?” “Once. Still have the bite mark.” “Remember, when I holler ‘Piñata time,’ you start the Chicken Dance. Every parent will film you.” “I refuse to flap my wings for less than 50% cut.” “You flap, you get gifts. No flap, no haul. It’s called negotiation.” “Fine, but if I get meme’d, you owe me therapy.” “Deal. Where are we stashing the presents afterwards?” “Outside, in the moon bounce. Nobody checks the moon bounce.” “You’re hiding a haul in an inflatable universe. Genius or madness, Bill?” “Bit of both, Molly. Are you sure you can keep the birthday boy distracted?” “Kids love magic. I’ll yank so many scarves out my sleeve, he’ll think I’m David Blaine.” “If he gets suspicious, deploy the bubble gun. Distracts even adults.” “I live for the bubble gun. You bring extra batteries?” “I brought extra everything. Except common sense, apparently.” “That shipped sailed when we decided to rob children.” “We agreed: they have better loot than jewelry stores.” “Not if the loot is handmade sock puppets.” “Kid’s mom is a CEO, Molly. Those presents are classier than I am.” “Bill, the key is stealth. No unnecessary moves. If you get stuck in the inflatable tunnel again, I’m not dragging you out.” “Comes with the territory. But if you get caught pocketing a stuffed pony, I don’t know you.” “Good. We’ve agreed on plausible deniability. Ready for go time?” “Nervous but ready. What’s the safeword if it goes south?” “‘Unicorns.’ If you hear ‘unicorns,’ bolt for the fence.” “And if they sic the balloon animal guy on us?” “Deflate him. Literally.” “Molly, if we pull this off, drinks are on you.” “After we donate half these toys to charity, Bill.” “Always the moral compass.” “Gotta keep up appearances. Now: dinosaur suit, chicken dance, glitter, cake, moon bounce stash. Did I miss anything?” “Emergency cupcakes. For bribery. They’re in my tail.” “Bill, that’s disturbingly genius. Ready?” “When you are. Remember, Operation Birthday Bonanza—go!” “Just don’t step on any toddlers.” “No promises, Molly. Those things are everywhere.” “That’s why I brought the bubble gun. Let’s roll.”