"Check the perimeter again," Bill whispered, adjusting his overly tight tuxedo. "It’s a bouncy castle, Bill. Not a missile silo," Molly retorted. She was currently disguising a heavy-duty industrial crowbar inside a hollowed-out baguette. "Sun Tzu said to know your enemy. Our enemy is currently eating paste and vibrating from a juice-box-induced sugar high. We need tactical precision." "We need to get into the sunroom, grab the pile of boxes wrapped in shiny dinosaurs, and leave before the clown starts his balloon animal set. That’s the plan." "The clown is a variable. He has shifty eyes. I don't trust a man who can fit that much primary color on one face." Molly rolled her eyes and clipped a walkie-talkie to her belt, which was hidden under a flowery summer dress. "Is the getaway vehicle primed?" "The tricycle is positioned behind the hydrangea bushes," Bill said with a firm nod. "We agreed on the sedan, Bill. Why is there a tricycle?" "Low profile, Molly. Plus, it has a bell. For intimidation." "Give me the floor plan." Bill pulled a crumpled napkin from his pocket. "Okay, here. Entry point A is the dog door. It’s tight, but if you exhale and I use the butter from the buffet, we’re golden." "I am not sliding through a dog door covered in Kerrygold," Molly snapped. "We’re using the patio entrance like civilized burglars." "And the security?" "You mean the Golden Retriever?" "He’s a sentry, Molly! He’s been trained in the art of the belly rub to lower our guard. It’s a psychological trap." "I brought a bag of high-end beef jerky. He’ll be our accomplice within ten seconds." Bill peered through his binoculars, which were actually just two toilet paper rolls taped together for 'urban camouflage.' "Look at the loot, Molly. That rectangular one in the blue foil? That’s definitely a Lego Death Star. Black market value is through the roof." "Focus. What’s the status of the target's parents?" "Occupied. The father is currently failing to light a charcoal grill, and the mother is trapped in a conversation about gluten-free cupcakes with a woman named Brenda. We have a four-minute window before the 'Happy Birthday' song begins." "That’s our cue," Molly said, checking her watch. "Once the singing starts, the acoustic interference will mask the sound of the bag zipping." "Wait! Look at the perimeter. We have a problem." "What now?" "Toddlers. Three of them. They’re patrolling the sandbox." "They're three years old, Bill. They're not patrolling, they’re looking for things to put in their ears." "They have sticky hands, Molly! If they touch the tuxedo, the forensic evidence will be everywhere. We'll be linked to the crime scene by strawberry jam fingerprints." "Pull yourself together. Put on the party hat. It’s our only hope for blending in." Bill solemnly placed a cone-shaped hat with glittery tassels on his head. "I feel like a fool." "You look like a guest. Now, grab the baguette. We go in on my signal." "On three?" "On 'cake'."