Molly and Bill, two master thieves, sat in a dimly lit alley, their backs pressed against a grimy brick wall. They huddled over a crumpled map of the extravagant mansion where the "Party of the Century" was to be held tonight, or so the invite that floated into their hands had declared. "Alright, so we're agreed," Molly began, her emerald eyes shining with mischief. "We're going to crash this kiddie soiree and walk out with more loot than Scrooge McDuck ever swam in. Old man Smythe and his precious collection of rare toys and gaming consoles will finally be mine." Bill nodded, adjusting his tweed cap. "Sounds like a plan, but how do we even get in without looking like a couple of creepy adults?" "Relax, Bill-i-vanilli," Molly purred, waving her manicured hand dismissively. "We'll just blend in with the caterers. The real challenge will be getting to the present stash without those pesky adults or the kiddos catching us." Bill chuckled nervously. "Right, because blending in with 5-year-olds is a piece of birthday cake." "Oh, stop whining," Molly retorted, elbowing him in the ribs. "We'll head straight for the kitchen, pretend to refill the punch bowl. Once the coast is clear, we'll make our move to the present room." Bill wrinkled his nose. "Ugh, I hate kiddie parties. Last time I went to one, some little gremlin