Molly twirled her wig with a lopsided expression, her eyes dancing like the dull spin of a top. "Bill, you recall our old graveyard job?" "Sure do,” Bill replied with a chuckle, flicking a piece of cake from his lip. "Not exactly a blueprint for Robin Hood in a nursery." Molly's laughter dripped off her words, each syllable practiced and melodious. "But picture it. Lights as soft as dandruff. Chaos as silent as a cornered mouse." Bill leaned back against a crib, his grin broad. "A heist amongst tombstones is clever, but can we handle gummy bears and giggles?" Molly's plan sparked in kind, her pitch perfect. "These tiny pirates will be easier to pilfer than gold doubloons. Quick, grab the master plan.” Bill unfurled the map, tracing fingers over smiling faces as if they were treasure. “First stop, Tiffany's Tropical Tumblers stand. Second, Mrs. Baker's unnamed collection of unknowns.” "The title 'Most Valuable Playtime Toy' lingers in the workers' minds," Molly mused. "Their words shimmer with anticipation. It's gold dust waiting to catch the sun." Bill snorted. "Gold tongues wagging like pinkeye. Perfect. Let's coral the kids with a siren call of faux puppies, then execute. Ease them into silent pirate shenanigans.” Molly pursed her lips, already envisioning her handbag filled with joy. "And then... it's home. We trade sea-farer's plunder for mastiff fur, Teddy bears." Their shared glance spoke volumes, a silent pact between kleptomaniacs of classroom cloisters. “When the clock strikes twelve, our song of merriment becomes a chorus of quiet coffers," whispered Bill, his voice lower still. Molly's response, a crescendo of certainty, echoed in agreement. "In the end, it’s just child's play, ain't it?" With that, they burst into a plan-making scramble, their intentions as clear as the glint on stolen baubles.