Molly crouched behind the inflatable castle, her heart racing as balloon animals squeaked under the summer sun. "Bill, did you remember the glitter bags?" she whispered. Bill checked his tattered backpack while balancing on tiptoes. "Of course. Everything’s in place. We’ll be in and out before cake or chaos," he promised, eyes scanning the plastic tablecloths. She flashed a grin at him, then hopped away from the bouncy obstacle course. A paper banner reading "Happy Seventh Birthday, Toby!" fluttered in the breeze. "We’ve only got ten minutes," Molly said, patting her watch. Bill licked his thumb, flipping through a crudely drawn map. "Route number three is our sweet spot." Molly slid to the entrance. "They’ve moved all the presents to the corner by the punch bowl," she reported. Bill scoffed. "Perfect visibility, terrible shadows. Kids will swarm that area before we even start." "We’ll use glow sticks," Molly suggested, "distract the toddlers in a neon conga line." Bill nodded, impressed. They peered through a creased invitation pinned to the wall. "This map shows the gift table by the pinata station," Bill observed. "We’ll hit the toddler traffic during the balloon twist demonstration," Molly added. They high-fived in hushed triumph. "Once they’re distracted by the squeaky unicorn horns, we swoop in," Bill grinned. Outside, lawn chairs rattled. Time ticked halfway to the piñata whacks. "Security cameras angle north and south," Bill murmured, pointing a jittery finger. Molly pressed her gloved palm against the window pane. "If we keep low and move between the gift bags, they won’t spot us," she assured. Bill cracked open the trunk to reveal empty sacks labeled "Fun Fund." They grinned. They exchanged a nod. "When the clown does the magic trick with the sad looking bunny hat, that’s our cue to sprint," Molly instructed. Bill loaded the glitter grenades. "These bad boys will blind the toddlers for at least thirty seconds," he boasted. The sound of giggles and accordion music signaled the perfect distraction. Molly winked and swallowed her excitement. Bill peered at Molly with a nervous grin. "What if the cake-cutting starts early? We could be trapped mid-raid." Molly smirked. "I have a portable smoke machine. If things go sideways, we vanish in frosting-scented fog." Bill’s eyebrows shot up. "Brilliant and ridiculous. Exactly our style." Outside, the party DJ shouted, "Who wants a conga line contest?" The moment had arrived. Molly glanced at her watch and inhaled deeply, feeling a tingle of adrenaline. "Bill, when I drop the confetti bomb, you sprint to the gift mountain and grab as many dice sets as you can carry," she ordered. Bill nodded, sliding the glitter pouch onto his belt. "Got it, but I’m grabbing the big remote-control car under the table too," he countered, eyes gleaming. Molly laughed, loading the confetti bomb into her sleeve. "Just leave something for the birthday boy or we’ll be chased by toddlers with frosting fingers for weeks," she teased. Together they burst into action, chaos in tow with wild screaming laughter.