Molly smoothed out the crayon-drawn map on the dashboard. "So we go in through the bouncy castle." "The bouncy castle," Bill repeated flatly. "It's our only option. Security's tight. She's hired a clown." "A clown." "You're doing that thing again where you just repeat what I say." "Sorry. Continue." "The clown arrives at two. We intercept him, take his costume, and you walk right through the front door." "Why am I the clown?" "Because I don't fit in the shoes, Bill. We've discussed this. Your feet are enormous." "They're size eleven." "Exactly. Clown feet. Now, once you're inside, you locate the present table. Should be near the cake." "And you?" "I'll be in the ball pit creating a diversion." "What kind of diversion?" "I'm going to claim I lost my contact lens. Parents will be fishing through those balls for twenty minutes minimum. That's when you grab the gifts and exit through the kitchen." "This feels morally questionable, Molly." "It's a piñata full of gift cards, Bill. Gift cards. The kid's turning six. What's she going to do with a Bed Bath and Beyond voucher?" "Fair point. I'm in."