"A bouncy castle?" Molly squinted at the blueprint. "Really?" "It's blocking the back entrance," Bill said. "We'll have to go through the front." "Through thirty sugar-crazed six-year-olds?" "Unless you want to deflate the castle." "That's evil, Bill. We're stealing their presents, not ruining their party." "Fine. Front door it is. I'll dress as a clown." "You hate clowns." "I hate prison more." "What about me?" "Magician's assistant. Sparkly dress, the works." "I don't do sparkles." "You do today. We grab the gift table during pin-the-tail-on-the-donkey." "That's your plan? Wait for a blindfolded kid game?" "They'll be distracted. In and out, two minutes tops." "What if someone recognizes us?" "From where? The grocery store? 'Hey, aren't you that lady who bought organic kale?'" "This is insane." "Eight grand in gift cards, Molly. Little Timmy's loaded." "His dad's a lawyer." "More reason to work fast." "If I get cake in my face—" "You love cake." "Not thrown by toddlers." "They're six." "Same difference." Molly sighed. "Red nose or rainbow wig?" "Both. Go big or go home." "With eight grand." "Exactly."