The backroom of *The Rusty Nail* smelled like stale beer and regret, which, Molly figured, was just the right ambiance for planning a heist. She leaned back in her chair, boots propped on the wobbly table, and tossed a stress ball shaped like a rubber chicken at Bill’s head. It bounced off his forehead with a satisfying *bonk*. “Ow. What was that for?” Bill rubbed the spot, glaring. “For looking like you’re about to rob a bank instead of a *kids’ birthday party*,” Molly said. “You’ve got the ‘I’m about to commit a felony’ face on. Tone it down. We’re going for *whimsical chaos*, not *desperate criminal*.” Bill adjusted his tie—why he was wearing a tie, Molly had no idea—and cleared his throat. “Whimsical chaos. Right. So, the plan. We waltz in, blend with the parents, then—” “No, no, no.” Molly waved her hands. “We don’t *waltz*. We *sashay*. Confidently. Like we *belong* there. Like we’re the cool aunt and uncle who definitely didn’t just case the joint from the bushes.” Bill blinked. “We cased the joint from the bushes?” “Obviously. How else were we supposed to know the piñata was shaped like a unicorn? That’s *key* intel, Bill. Unicorns are *distracting*. Kids lose their minds over those things. While they’re all screaming and grabbing candy, we’ll be stuffing presents into our *very* discreetly oversized diaper bag.” Bill stared at the diaper bag on the table. It was pink with little ducks on it. “That’s the most suspicious thing I’ve ever seen.” “Exactly! No one suspects the guy with the diaper bag. It’s like a *get-out-of-jail-free* card. Also, I sewed hidden pockets inside. We’re taking the good stuff—no cheapo action figures. I want the *Lego sets*. The *artisanal wooden trains*. The *limited-edition My Little Pony that’s probably worth more than your car*.” Bill groaned. “We’re stealing *toys*.” “No, we’re *redistributing wealth*. Think of it as Robin Hood, but instead of stealing from the rich, we’re stealing from *overindulgent parents who bought their kid a $200 robot that does backflips*.” “That’s not how Robin Hood works.” “It is in *my* version.” Molly grinned. “Now, distractions. We need a *diversion*. Something to keep the adults occupied while we work.” Bill perked up. “I could start a fight.” “No.” “A *fake* fight.” “Still no. We need something *subtle*.” Molly tapped her chin. “What if I ‘accidentally’ knock over the cake?” “That’s not subtle, that’s *war crimes*.” “Fine. What if *you* ‘accidentally’ knock over the cake?” Bill considered it. “I *do* have a history of clumsiness.” “Perfect. While everyone’s scrambling for napkins and the mom of the hour is having an existential crisis, we’ll be loading up. Oh! And we *have* to take the goodie bags. Those things are *gold mines*.” Bill sighed. “This is the dumbest heist we’ve ever planned.” “No, the dumbest was the time we tried to steal a yacht by pretending to be dolphins.” “That was *your* idea.” “And it *almost* worked!” Molly stood up, grabbing the diaper bag. “Alright, let’s move. The party starts in an hour, and I want to be the first ones there so we can *strategically* position ourselves near the present table.” Bill followed her to the door, muttering, “I can’t believe I’m about to commit felony larceny for a bag of *stickers*.” Molly patted his shoulder. “That’s the spirit. And hey—if we get caught, just say we’re the *entertainment*.”