"So the party starts at two," Molly said, spreading a crayon-drawn map across the dashboard. "We go in at two-fifteen, right when the sugar hits." "Why two-fifteen?" Bill asked, adjusting his fake mustache in the rearview mirror. "Because twenty kids hopped up on cake and juice boxes is basically a smoke screen, Bill. Nobody's watching anything except their own little nightmare." "Fair point. What about the mom?" "Karen? She'll be in the kitchen dealing with the gluten-free kid's special cupcake situation. I made sure to RSVP little Timmy with seven allergies." "There is no little Timmy." "Karen doesn't know that. Now, you go in through the bouncy castle." "I'm sorry, through it?" "There's a seam on the left side. You slip in, crawl under, pop out by the gift table." "And I just grab everything?" "You load the presents into the giant teddy bear." "What giant teddy bear?" "The one I hollowed out last night. It's in the trunk." Bill turned around and stared at the enormous stuffed animal wedged into the backseat. "That's deeply unsettling, Molly." "It's genius is what it is. Now put on your balloon artist wig."