The sun dipped low, casting long, desperate shadows over the manicured lawn like prison bars. The sound of laughter drifted from the backyard, a siren song of pure bliss. The birthday boy was celebrating his fourth year, a formidable fortress. Behind the table, the mountain of wrapped boxes stood impassable, guarded only by a bored dad. Molly adjusted her balaclava, which she’d spray-painted with pink polka dots to match the invitation swiped from the recycling bin. Bill stared at the tablet displaying a topographic map of the climbing frame, treating it like a war room strategy session. He gripped the bag of confetti grenades tightly, sweat beading on his forehead. This wasn't just a robbery; it was a heist of epic proportions. The loot consisted of the giant yellow wig, a slide projector, and five boxes of chocolate coins destined for the sugar-rushed toddlers. Bill weighed the importance of the red scooter against the vanilla cake. "Cake first. Then presents." Bill looked concerned. "Losing the bike an option?"