Molly adjusted her glittery party hat and leaned against the bakery’s display case, eyeing the balloon arch across the street. "Alright, Bill, we’ve got a problem. The kid’s birthday party is in a *bouncy castle*." Bill wiped frosting off his chin and squinted. "So? Bouncy castles are just glorified trampolines. We’ll bounce our way to the gift table, grab the loot, and bounce out like we’re in a *very* suspicious aerobics class." "First of all, that’s the dumbest plan I’ve ever heard. Second, have you *seen* yourself? You’re six-foot-four and built like a disgruntled refrigerator. You step in that thing, it’s gonna pop like a balloon animal at a gun range." Bill flexed. "I’ll have you know I’m *light on my feet*. Like a panther. A *very* broad panther." Molly pinched the bridge of her nose. "Panthers don’t wear steel-toe boots. And third—*third*—how are we supposed to explain two adults crashing a five-year-old’s *‘Unicorn Princess Tea Party’*? You in a tutu, Bill? Because I am *not* putting on a tutu." Bill grinned. "Who says we’re crashing as adults? We’ll go in as *entertainers*. ‘Magical Uncle Bill and his *slightly* suspicious assistant, Molly.’ We do a few card tricks, ‘accidentally’ set the piñata on fire, and while everyone’s distracted by the *minor arson*, we make off with the LEGO sets." Molly stared. "You want to *burn down a children’s party* for a few plastic bricks?" "Strategic chaos, Mol. Classic misdirection. Also, have you *priced* LEGO sets lately?" She groaned. "We are *not* arsonists." Bill shrugged. "Fine. We’ll stick to the original plan: I’ll be the *piñata*. You hit me with a stick, I ‘break open,’ and while everyone’s digging through my pockets for candy, you grab the gifts." Molly blinked. "That’s… actually not terrible." Bill beamed. "Told you I was a genius." "You’re an idiot. But *our* idiot." She sighed. "Alright, let’s do it. But if I have to wear a tutu, I’m blaming you when I *accidentally* elbow a kid in the face."