The inflatable unicorn wobbled in the breeze as Molly adjusted her glittery party hat, squinting at the backyard through a pair of binoculars. "Alright, Bill, we’ve got a problem. The kid’s sixth birthday party is *swarming* with tiny humans. And not the quiet, sugar-crashing kind—the hyper, scream-at-the-sight-of-a-stranger kind." Bill, currently stuffing his face with a stolen cupcake, wiped frosting off his chin. "So? We’re professionals. We’ll blend in. You got the costume, right?" Molly held up a neon green T-shirt with a bedazzled "DAD’S BEST FRIEND" across the chest. "Oh yeah, this’ll fool ‘em. Nothing says ‘trusted adult’ like a shirt that screams ‘I shop at a gas station.’" "Works for me. Now, the presents—where’s the stash?" "Under the picnic table. Wrapped in *so much* dinosaur paper it looks like a T-Rex exploded in a craft store." Bill grinned. "Perfect. We grab the loot, toss a few extra balloons in the air for distraction, and—" "And hope no one notices when we make off with a mountain of LEGO and a My Little Pony that costs more than my rent." "Details. You worry too much." Bill adjusted his fake mustache, which was already peeling off. "Besides, if anyone asks, we’re just… really committed party guests." Molly sighed, watching a toddler body-slam into a piñata. "God help us."