Molly crouched low in the bushes, peeking through the prickly branches at the backyard festooned with colorful balloons and streams. She watched the parade of sugar-fueled children bounding around the inflatable castle and sighed. "Why are there always more kids than you expect?" Bill, lying flat beside her in the foliage, a straw hat ludicrously perched atop his head for "disguise," didn’t bother looking. "People birth 'em and then bring ’em. Comes with the territory, Molls. Keep your eyes on the prize. Those presents are not going to steal themselves." She shot him a look. "That’s literally what we’re here to do, genius." "Focus," he muttered, adjusting his binoculars. "Looks like the clown's making balloon animals now. That’ll keep them busy." Bill's fascination with the operation was more scholarly, like a professor analyzing a particularly interesting specimen. “Notice the wrapping on those presents. High-quality glitter paper. We could resell that.” “Nobody’s buying second-hand wrapping paper, Bill.” Rolling his eyes, he pulled out a map of the house and unfolded it between them. “Here’s the plan: I'll slip inside during the cake cutting - that’s when they'll be the least attentive. You dive for the presents. We meet back here.” “Fine. But how are you planning to handle the clown? That guy can make a weapon out of a balloon.” Bill grinned. “Diversion. I’ve arranged for a little... surprise. Let's just say that the clown will have his hands full.” Molly nodded, adjusting her own hat—a less conspicuous beanie—and watched as more guests arrived. Every new child added to her creeping dread. "This is insane, you know. Of all the heists, why a kiddie party?" "It's brilliant!" Bill whispered emphatically. "Everyone’s distracted, happy, and there's cake. Plus, if we pull this off, it’s the story of a lifetime." She had to admit, the thrill was part of the appeal, even if the setting was absurd. The clown began pulling out an endless array of hats from a tiny box, and the kids shrieked with glee. "You ready?" Bill asked, squinting at his watch. “Let’s do it. For the glitter paper.” They broke from their cover, slipping into the shadows like wraiths. Molly darted towards the pile of presents, expertly dodging a wayward soccer ball, while Bill made for the back door. Suddenly, the air filled with a cacophony of barks. Bill's diversion—a handful of dog treats thrown into the clown’s bag—had unleashed chaos in the form of a dozen tiny, yapping dogs, previously unnoticed, which had been happily napping under a nearby table. The clown, caught in the onslaught, stumbled back, pulling with him the tablecloth and all the magic tricks spread atop it. As the kids roared with laughter at the unexpected canine magic show, Molly quickly bundled the glittering presents into a large sack. Just as they had planned, she sprinted back to their original spot, with Bill already there, cheeks flushed with the thrill. “Operation Birthday Bash is a go,” she panted, dropping the heavy sack between them. “Next time,” Bill said, grinning as they heard the distant sound of “Happy Birthday” starting up, “we crash a wedding. I hear the cake’s even better.”