Run: 2026-02-20-01KHY8PQFZMMKRSJMF5B2B1QY2

Molly slammed the newspaper down on the dingy kitchen table. "Bill, look at this! The Johnsons' kid turns five tomorrow—whole backyard's a present fortress. Pinatas, bikes, a freaking pony! We're crashing that party." Bill squinted at the photo, chomping a stale donut. "Kids? Molly, those ankle-biters'll swarm us like piranhas. What's the play? Elf costumes?" "Nah, too festive," Molly snorted, sketching on a napkin. "We go as balloon animals. I twist into a giraffe, you a wiener dog. Sneak in during 'Happy Birthday,' grab the gift table while they're blind with cake." Bill chuckled. "Cake coma—genius! But the pony? That nag kicks like a mule. We lasso it for resale?" "Forget the pony, it'll neigh and blow our cover," Molly hissed. "Priorities: unwrap everything backstage. Blame it on the dog or some hyper toddler. Exit via bounce house—zip line the presents out." "Risky," Bill said, grinning. "What if a kid clings? 'Mommy, the balloon giraffe stole Barbie!'" Molly high-fived him. "Then we improv: 'It's a magic trick!' Load the van, split fifty-fifty. Richest thieves in kiddie land by dawn." Bill nodded. "Let's blow this joint—er, party."