The map was a crayon drawing on the back of a soggy Chuck E. Cheese placemat. Molly tapped a greasy smudge near the ball pit icon. This is the rendezvous point, she whispered, her eyes darting around the minivan. We hit the juice box cooler first to create a distraction. Bill adjusted his clip-on tie and looked in the visor mirror. Do I look like a birthday magician? I feel like a funeral director for hamsters. You look like a professional, Bill. Now, focus. The target is a pile of rectangular boxes wrapped in Elsa and Spider-Man paper. We estimate a net worth of four hundred dollars in LEGO sets and at least one remote-controlled drone. Is the drone the one with the camera? Bill asked, checking his pockets for the smoke bombs they had fashioned out of baking soda and glitter. Because I really want that drone, Molly. My nephew has one, and he mocks me from the driveway. Focus on the mission, not your family trauma, Molly snapped. You take the north perimeter by the bouncy castle. I’ll infiltrate the gift table using the 'Auntie from Out of Town' maneuver. Does that involve the cheek pinching? Bill shivered. I hate the cheek pinching. It’s a low blow, even for us. It’s a tactical necessity, Bill. If a toddler asks who I am, I tell them I’m Great Aunt Gertrude. They’re usually too sugared up to check the genealogy. What about the clown? Bill pointed a trembling finger toward the driveway. There’s a guy named Bubbles out there making balloon giraffes. He looks like he’s seen things. He’s got shifty eyes. Bubbles is a civilian, Molly said, checking her watch. We ignore him unless he tries to block the exit. If he pulls a balloon sword, you use the glitter bomb. And the cake? Bill licked his lips. Is the cake part of the haul? I heard it’s red velvet. The cake is a secondary objective only, Bill! We are here for the high-value cardboard. If you get distracted by frosting again like the Omaha job, I’m leaving you in the ball pit. That ball pit was a tactical retreat! Bill protested. I was blending in with the primary colors! You were crying because you lost your shoe, Molly countered. Now, put on your spectacles. The bouncy castle is inflating. That’s our signal. I’m going in, Bill said, gripping the door handle. If I don’t make it back, tell my cat I loved her. Your cat hates you, Bill. Just get the LEGOs. Now move! On three? Bill asked. On three, Molly confirmed. One, two, three. For the plastic gold! For the red velvet! Bill shouted, tumbling out of the minivan and immediately tripping over a lawn sprinkler.