The Great Flap Heist

I wedge my shoulder against the top cardboard flap, grunt dramatically for zero actual audience, and shove. A sharp scritch-pop—and glorious fresh air floods in! Squeezing my trusty unicorn tighter under my arm, I wriggle upward through the gap like a very determined, sleepwear-clad ferret. One clumsy tumble later, I land flat on my vinyl rear right on the polished wood. Freedom. The rubber duck committee barely blinks, but I take a theatrical bow anyway. First order of business on the outside: stretch these pint-sized legs and figure out where this place hides the snacks.