Bill adjusted his ski mask, sweating profusely inside the parked getaway van. Beside him, Molly leaned forward, studying the crude blueprint of the suburban fortress with intense focus. "Are you absolutely certain we can breach the perimeter?" Bill whispered, eyeing the colorful bouncy castle guarding the yard. "That looks like high-security defense." "It’s latex and air, Bill, relax," Molly scoffed, tightening the straps on her tactical jumpsuit. "The parents are completely distracted by the magician." "I hear 'Baby Shark' playing on a loop," Bill noted nervously, clutching his crowbar. "That’s basically an auditory torture device." "That’s our cover music," she insisted sharply, checking the magazine. "We grab the gifts, we bolt. Simple." "What about the armed guards?" he asked, pointing a trembling finger at a balloon artist twisting a poodle. "He’s twisting balloons, not a silencer," she hissed. "Focus on the prize. That huge pile of unopened boxes near the cake." "I just feel bad stealing from little Timmy," Bill admitted, voice cracking. "He seems like a nice kid." "Timmy has too much, and we have rent," Molly said, checking her watch. "Now, move out." They dashed toward the chaotic noise, ready to plunder the kindergarten.