Molly lowered her military-grade binoculars, the view of pure, unadulterated chaos burning her retinas. Hyper-sugared children swarmed a rapidly deflating bouncy castle like tiny piranhas. A lone clown wept quietly by the fence, his smile a painted rictus of despair. She tapped a grease pencil against the blueprint spread across the van’s dashboard. It was a masterpiece of suburban infiltration, detailing every gnome and sprinkler head. Bill, meanwhile, was meticulously inhaling a powdered donut, showering the schematics in a fine white dust. His eyes were fixed on the prize: a mountain of gifts wrapped in holographic unicorn paper. “The magician arrives at three. That’s our window.” Bill finally looked up. “What’s the distraction?” “You. In the squirrel costume.” He sighed, a puff of sugar exploding. “Oh, nuts.” Molly ignored him, her gaze already fixed on phase two. She circled the sad, listless pony with a red marker. Her plan was forming, blooming in her mind like a beautiful, dangerous flower. It was elegant. It was foolproof. It involved hijacking the pony with a trail of carrots, creating a diversion so utterly bewildering that no one would notice a giant squirrel stuffing presents into a sack.