Run: 2026-03-11-01KKFG0ANZ2XM8BXBVP0JGTGFA

Molly pressed her nose against the cold glass of the patio door. "Okay. The loot is concentrated in three zones: the main pile by the bouncy castle, the secondary cache near the juice fountain, and the overflow by the clown." Bill, adjusting his tiny ski mask, peered over her shoulder. "The clown. Always the clown. Creepy." "Focus. Security is minimal. One parent is passed out on a folding chair. The other two are engaged in a deeply philosophical debate about organic versus conventional fruit snacks." "So, a frontal assault?" "Don't be an idiot. We go in through the dog flap. It's a Dalmatian-sized flap, Bill. You can make it." "I have a very elegant frame," he protested. Molly unrolled a crinkled napkin with a crayon schematic. "Extraction is key. I've identified a pneumatic tube system—it's the ball pit. We load the packages into the blue chute, pull the lever, and the contents are delivered directly to our van's sunroof." Bill stared. "You want to steal presents... via ball pit?" "It's inspired. Now, about the cake as a diversionary explosive..." "Wait, what? No. Absolutely not. That's a buttercream line I won't cross." "Fine. We'll just use the karaoke machine. No parent can resist the call of 'Baby Shark' at maximum volume. It'll buy us twelve minutes." "Twelve minutes to raid a party for a giant teddy bear and three board games with missing pieces." "The *principle*, Bill. The *principle*."