Run: 2026-02-08-01KGYXPQZ2KBQ15NGG5WD8PWBM

The surveillance photos were grainy, but the target was clear. A giant, inflatable purple dinosaur loomed over the suburban backyard, guarding the massive treasure mountain of wrapped boxes. Molly adjusted her night-vision goggles, currently rendering a plastic playground slide in high-contrast green. The stakes were dangerously high. "The perimeter is crawling with toddlers," she whispered into her headset. "They’re sticky." "Sticky is good," Bill replied, cracking his knuckles in the passenger seat. "It means they’re slow. We move in during the pinata bash." "That’s suicide, Bill. The candy shrapnel will be flying everywhere." "We dress as caterers. We wheel in the backup cake, swap it for the present pile, and wheel out fast before the tears start." "Stealing from a six-year-old feels wrong," Molly noted, watching a small child trip over a garden hose. "Even for us." "Check the tag on that big box," Bill commanded, pointing a gloved, shaking finger at the screen. "It’s a limited-edition gaming console. We do this, and we retire in the Bahamas for good." Molly sighed, checking her tactical watch. She looked at the map, tracing the route through the obstacle course of foam pits and balloons. "I’ll go grab the console. You distract the clown."