The blueprints were spread across the kitchen table, which was currently sticky with what Bill hoped was jam. Molly leaned in, her finger tracing a path through a fortress of crayon-drawn dragons. “Okay, Bill, focus. The prize is inside. The objective is clear. But the defences, Bill, the defences are… sticky.” Bill peered at the diagram. It was a child’s rendering of a house, with a big, wobbly sun in the corner. “Is that a moat filled with lava? Or is it just orange juice?” “Worse,” Molly said, tapping a blob of red wax. “That’s the punch bowl. It’s a known hazard. The initial entry point is the side gate. It’s rated for a medium-sized dog, so it shouldn’t be a problem for us. But we have to time it for the Pin the Tail on the Donkey diversion. That’s our window of opportunity.” Bill squinted at a cluster of dots. “And these? Guard posts?” “Those are sprinkler heads, you walnut. But the real threat is here.” She pointed to a crude drawing of a woman with triangular hair. “The Mum. She’s packing a whole cake, Bill. And she’s not afraid to use it. If she sees us, we’re done for. We’ll be forced to consume frosting until we can’t move.” “Right, so no eye contact. Got it. What’s the exit strategy?” Molly’s eyes gleamed with a manic light. “We don’t have one. We blend in. We become the weird, quiet relatives no one talks to. We wait until the sugar crash, then we make our move for the mountain. It’s in the living room, under a banner that says ‘Happy Birthday Timmy.’” Bill shuddered. “The Mountain of Presents… it’s terrifying. So much wrapping paper. So many potential noise traps.” “Exactly,” Molly whispered, pulling two pairs of woolly socks from a duffel bag. “That’s why we’re going in stealth-mode. These are our sound-dampening booties. We move like cats. Very, very confused cats who are attending a birthday party. You grab the video game console. I’ll get the LEGO Death Star. We rendezvous by the dip, and we walk out like we own the place.” “Molly, this is insane. What if we get caught? What if one of them asks us to help with the piñata?” “That’s a risk we have to take, Bill. For the loot. For the glory. Now, put on your socks. Operation: Party Pooper is a go in ten minutes.”