Molly spread the crayon-drawn map across the sticky diner table, her eyes gleaming with the intensity of someone about to crack Fort Knox rather than a suburban bounce house party. Bill squinted at the document, turning it sideways, then upside down. "Is that a dragon?" "That's the birthday boy's golden retriever. Focus." The plan was elegant in its simplicity and catastrophic in its potential for humiliation. They would enter through the back gate disguised as balloon artists, navigate past the juice box station, and locate the present pile near the inflatable unicorn. Molly had spent three days perfecting her balloon poodle technique, though every attempt still looked vaguely obscene. Bill nervously twisted his napkin into origami shapes that resembled his mounting anxiety. The last job had gone sideways when he sneezed during a silent auction heist, alerting an elderly docent with surprisingly good hearing and a heavy purse. "The mother posts everything online. We know there's a gaming console in that pile." Molly tapped the map triumphantly at a spot marked with a glittery star sticker. The presents would be unguarded during the piñata ceremony. Fifteen sugar-crazed children swinging blindly at papier-mâché would provide the perfect distraction. What could possibly go wrong?