Check the perimeter again, Molly hissed. It’s a backyard, Molly. The perimeter is a white picket fence. It’s a containment zone, Bill. Don't get complacent. What is the intel on the target? A mountain of brightly wrapped boxes guarding the chocolate fountain. The primary objective appears to be a limited edition starship set. Excellent. High resale, low volume. And the security detail? A dozen six-year-olds currently sugar-crashing and one drowsy dad manning the propane grill. Deadly. Those spatulas can be weaponized. We need a distraction. I still think we should just pull the fire alarm. Too loud. We stick to the plan. I release the feral hamster into the bouncy castle. In the ensuing chaos, you navigate the crepe paper streamers and secure the package. I have serious questions about the extraction vehicle. The red wagon is strategically parked behind the hydrangeas. It has a squeaky wheel, Molly. It adds authenticity. We act like helpful neighbors moving gifts to the car. We blend in. We are wearing balaclavas. They are themed! Mine has ears. I’m a bandit mouse. I look like a generic burglar. You look like a party favor gone wrong. Stop whining. Do you want the starship or not? I’m just saying, if a toddler bites me, I’m telling on him. Just put on the party hat. It’s go time.