"Molly, focus!" Bill hissed, adjusting the binoculars. "We're here to case the joint, not critique the bouncy castle." Molly, peering from behind a tree, giggled. "Sorry, but look at that clown, Bill. He's got to be at least six feet tall. Do you think he'll fit in the getaway van?" "Forget the clown," Bill muttered. "We're after the presents. The little tykes won't even notice until we're long gone." "Unless the piñata becomes sentient and starts singing 'Happy Birthday' in Spanish," Molly snickered. Bill rolled his eyes. "You've been watching too many cartoons. It's a simple grab-and-go. In, out, no one gets the hiccups." "But what if the kids have a conga line? I love conga lines," Molly said, doing a little shimmy. "Molly!" Bill grabbed her by the shoulders. "This is serious. We need to be invisible. Ghosts. Phantoms of the party." "Okay, okay," Molly saluted. "I'll be the phantom with the best conga. But what's our exit strategy?" "When the chaos of the cake cutting begins, we'll strike," Bill explained. "I'll swipe the gifts, you distract the kiddos with a spontaneous game of hot potato." "And the parents?" Molly asked, a hint of concern in her voice. "They'll be too busy taking photos for their Instagram stories to notice us," Bill assured her. Molly grinned. "This is going to be the best heist ever. We'll be legends. The modern-day Bonnie and Clyde of kiddie parties." Bill shook his head, a smile tugging at his lips. "Just stick to the plan, and we'll be swimming in loot. Now, let's synchronize our watches and get into position. It's showtime."