“Right, so the bouncy castle is on the left, the face-painting booth is dead ahead, and the presents are… where exactly?” Molly asked, squinting at the illegible crayon drawing Bill had presented. “Underneath the pirate ship piñata, duh,” Bill replied, pointing with a stubby finger. “It’s a strategic location. All the high-value loot, well-guarded by sugar-addled children and a giant papier-mâché Captain Hook.” “Sugar-addled children are a known quantity. We can distract them with more sugar, or preferably, a well-placed fumbled magic trick,” Molly mused. “But a pirate ship piñata? That’s new. Is it full of candy *before* we get there, or are we expected to fill it?” “Molly, you’re missing the point. The piñata is a *marker*. It tells us where the goods are. The actual contents are irrelevant to our primary objective: present acquisition,” Bill explained, tapping the drawing with an air of superior intellect. “So, ‘Operation Pinata Presents’ then?” “No, no, that’s too on-the-nose. And it doesn’t quite capture the subtle artistry of our approach. How about… ‘The Great Gift Grab’?” “Sounds like a Black Friday sale at a retirement home. We need something with a bit more… panache. Something that screams ‘international master thieves, temporarily slumming it at a six-year-old’s birthday’.” “‘Operation Sticky Fingers and Glitter Bombs’?” Bill offered tentatively. Molly snorted. “Are we planning on *deploying* glitter bombs? Because I’m pretty sure the clean-up would constitute cruel and unusual punishment for the parents, not to mention ourselves.” “It’s a metaphor, Molly! For the dazzling, disruptive nature of our infiltration!” “Right. And the sticky fingers?” “For the presents, obviously. How else are we going to sneak them out under the noses of miniature ninjas and princesses demanding more juice boxes?” “I was thinking more along the lines of oversized empty gift bags, strategically placed around the perimeter. We blend in, offer to help clear up a bit, and then *poof* – the bags are suddenly much heavier and filled with other people’s thoughtful gestures.” “That’s… surprisingly discreet for you. I was envisioning a dramatic entrance, perhaps descending from the roof in matching cat burglar outfits.” “Bill, for the last time, we are not wearing matching cat burglar outfits to a child’s birthday party. The ‘little black number’ works on a gala, not a play park.” “But the practicality! The agility! Imagine the looks on their faces when two shadowy figures drop from the sky, snatching gifts with practiced grace!” “And then we get tackled by parents wielding juice boxes and a very upset clown. No, Bill. We’re going with subtle. Inconconspicuous. We’re practically invisible until the presents are gone.” “But… where’s the fun in that?” Bill pouted, looking genuinely crestfallen. “The fun, Bill, is in the successful acquisition of the goods. The challenge is in the execution without leaving behind any incriminating fingerprints, stray glitter, or emotionally scarred children who witnessed two adults in black spandex grappling with a piñata.” “Fine. Subtle. But I get to drive the getaway vehicle. And it has to be one of those little electric cars they rent for toddlers. I’ve always wanted to try one of those.” Molly sighed. “You know what? Deal. Just don’t crash it into the bouncy castle.”