Molly smoothed the wrinkled layout of the suburban backyard across the sticky dashboard of their rusted van. The Johnson residence was fortified with three feet of white picket fencing and a potentially treacherous sprinkler system. She tapped the diagram where the massive bouncy castle was stationed. That was the tactical choke point. If the hired entertainment went rogue, they would be trapped between the inflatable turret and the cooler full of organic juice boxes. Bill nervously polished his crowbar like it was a diamond heist. "Watch out for that scary clown," Bill whispered. Molly nodded solemnly. Psychological warfare was a threat. She traced a red line toward the picnic table. Diversion was essential. If the sugar rush hit the targets simultaneously, the resulting chaos would cover their extraction of the gift pile. It was the perfect crime. No thermal cameras, just a dad with a shaky camcorder. No laser grids, just crepe paper. "Stealing the pony is simply impossible," Molly said. "We just take the fancy Legos," Bill replied. High-value assets were key. She checked her watch. The piñata broke at noon.