Molly adjusted her goggles, the neon pink plastic clashing spectacularly with the faded velvet of her burglar’s jumpsuit. “Okay, Bill. This is it.” Bill, whose usual attire consisted of questionable tracksuits, was surprisingly decked out this evening. He sported overalls adorned with tiny, embroidered dinosaurs and a bright orange construction helmet. “Ready as I’ll ever be, Mol. You calling this a caper or a… playdate gone rogue?” “It’s Operation: Sugar Rush Surprise,” Molly declared, tapping a finger on a crumpled printout of a brightly colored invitation. “Target: Bartholomew ‘Barty’ Buttercup’s seventh birthday bash. Location: The ‘Sparkle Castle’ bounce house emporium.” Bill whistled low. “Sparkle Castle? Sounds… gaudy. Think they’ll have a laser grid disguised as glitter cannons?” “Worse,” Molly said, eyes narrowed. “They’ll have parents. Parents with enough sugar-fueled aggression to make a pack of wolves look like kittens. Our window of opportunity is precisely between the cake cutting and the inevitable sugar crash.” “So, what, we storm in like a couple of rogue birthday clowns?” Bill asked, miming an exaggerated juggling motion with invisible balls. “No, no, you brute force Neanderthal,” Molly sighed. “We go in undercover. You, with your… dinosaur enthusiast aesthetic, will blend right in with the little rugrats. Kids love dinosaurs, right?” Bill eyed his overalls. “If by ‘love,’ you mean occasionally poke to see if they’re real, then yeah, I’m a shoe-in.” “Excellent. I’ll be your… eccentric aunt. The one who always brings too many gifts and then ‘accidentally’ loses them in the party chaos,” Molly explained, a devious glint in her eye. “My disguise is simple: a ridiculously large sparkly hat and a permanent, unsettling smile.” “So the plan is, I cause a mild dinosaur-related incident, you distract the adults with your unsettling smile, and then we… pocket the loot?” Bill clarified, scratching his helmet. “Precisely. We’ll need a designated ‘gift collection zone.’ I was thinking one of those giant inflatable ball pits. Just scoop ‘em in, no one will notice a few extra bouncy balls amongst the plastic spheres of joy.” “Genius, Mol! Absolutely, positively genius,” Bill boomed. “But what if little Timmy, or whatever his name is, sees us rummaging through his Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle Monopoly?” Molly waved a dismissive hand. “We’ll be swift. And remember, our cover requires us to embody the spirit of the party. We must be joyous, slightly manic, and utterly uninhibited. Think aggressive balloon animal inflation. Think competitive piñata smashing. Think… overwhelming enthusiasm.” Bill grinned, a truly unhinged expression that made Molly pause for a second. “You’re gonna make me do balloon animals? My lungs haven’t been that tested since that unfortunate incident with the inflatable sumo suits at Heidi’s wedding.” “Just do your best, Bill. And for goodness sake, no real dinosaur roars. We’re aiming for a heist, not a prehistoric extinction event.” Molly clapped her hands together. “Now, let’s go steal some childhood dreams. And action figures. Mostly action figures.”