“Bill, for the record, I’m allergic to clowns,” Molly hissed, stuffing a set of glittery animal stickers into her black fanny pack. “Allergic? To clowns? That’s not a thing, Molly.” “Says the man who had hives from watching Ronald McDonald on TV.” “That was a coincidence. And besides, relax. The invite said maximum of two clowns on premises. We’re in the clear.” “Fine, but if they bring in backup, I’m out. You got the list?” “Of course. Twenty-three attendees under five, six teachers, four parents, and the magician who apparently doubles as a balloon animal engineer.” “Balloon animals. What will they think of next? You packed the fake mustaches?” “Two for each of us. In case of sweat-based detachment.” “Good. Now, the presents. Orange gift table, right?” “Confirmed. Past the ball pit, under the big cardboard rainbow. You know, for subtlety.” “I swear, kids’ parties used to be just cake and crying.” “You’ve obviously never been pelted with gluten-free cupcakes.” “I still have frosting scars. Okay. What’s the entry plan?” “We mingle at snack time. Blend in. You pass as a pressed-juice catering staff. I, as one of the lamely-dressed parents.” “You think I can pull off responsible adult?” “No. But these kids are hopped up on sugar, they won’t notice. We circle toward the gift table, snatch the presents, slip them in the empty cooler.” “And then?” “We avoid eye contact with the giant Peppa Pig mascot and walk out through the side gate.” “Side gate. Isn’t that padlocked?” “Was. Last night, I swapped the lock with a chocolate one.” “You genius. But you know that’s going to melt, right?” “Exactly. Time it perfectly, we unlock and eat our way to freedom.” “Do we have a contingency in case someone recognizes you from last year’s piñata incident?” “You mean when you tripped over the sprinkler system and face-planted into the princess cake?” “That cake was structural sabotage! And you can’t prove a thing.” “Which is why you’re wearing sunglasses and a hat this time.” “Good call. Molly, just so we’re clear, what do we do if someone’s present is a live animal? Last year there was a guinea pig.” “We adapt. If it’s furrier than a pencil case, we leave it behind.” “And if questioned?” “We’re looking for the lost party mouse.” “That’s not a thing either!” “Says you. Kids love rodents. Anyway, you ready?” “Ready as I’ll ever be. Wait, what’s the getaway?” “Big clown car in the driveway.” “Don’t you dare.” “I already reserved it. Nothing inconspicuous like a fifteen-foot sedan covered in polka dots.” “We’ll look like maniacs.” “Bill, we ARE maniacs. This is the third children’s party heist this month.” “You think there’ll be Legos?” “Bill, focus. Presents. In. Cooler.” “Right. Presents. Cooler. Exit.” “And for the love of cupcakes, do not eat any cake until we’re out.” “No promises.” “Molly!” “Let’s go steal some childhood memories.”