Bill adjusted his neon orange wig, staring at the inflatable castle with the intensity of a highly seasoned bomb disposal expert. This wasn’t just any job; this was the kindergarten equivalent of Fort Knox. The target was a garish unicorn-themed sixth birthday party, and the payload was undeniably sweet. Approximately forty wrapped boxes lay stacked precariously near the spiked punch bowl, guarded by a hyper-vigilant seven-year-old wearing a Batman cape and a deep scowl. One slip-up meant dealing with angry soccer moms, a fate far worse than prison. Molly nodded, tightening the strap on her utilitarian fanny pack while hiding in the bushes. She scanned the perimeter for parents, who were unfortunately hovering like overly protective helicopters. The air smelled of sugar and desperation. The exit strategy required speed, agility, and the element of surprise, plus perhaps a handful of glitter bombs to create absolute, sparkling chaos. It was a dirty job, stealing from toddlers, but the resale value of the limited edition action figures would set them up for months on end. They crouched low behind the hedge, ready to ruin the best day of little Timmy’s life for a quick payout. "We enter through the bounce house now," Bill whispered, checking his watch. "Grab the big boxes." "I want the big pony," Molly replied, tightening her pack. "Just get ready."