Molly spread the crayon-drawn map across the sticky diner table, her eyes gleaming with determination. "According to my source, the presents will be stacked near the bouncy castle," she whispered. Bill squinted at the colorful scribbles. "Your source is a six-year-old." "A very reliable six-year-old. Tommy owes me after I helped him cheat at Go Fish last week." The waitress passed by and they fell silent, pretending to study their laminated menus. Once she disappeared into the kitchen, Bill leaned forward with concern etched across his weathered face. "There'll be at least fifteen kids in there, Molly. Fifteen. Do you know how sticky children are?" "That's why I bought hazmat suits." "You're joking." "I never joke about hygiene, Bill." He rubbed his temples, already feeling a headache forming behind his eyes. This was supposed to be his retirement score, and here he was plotting against a princess-themed birthday party. "What about the parents?" he asked. "Distracted by mimosas. The invitation specifically mentioned an open bar." "That's actually genius." "I know. Now, you'll create a diversion using this balloon animal." She produced a deflated pink shape from her purse. Bill stared at it helplessly.