“Alright, Bill, listen up. Operation Sugarplum Sabotage is a go. We’re hitting the Johnson residence tomorrow afternoon. Family barbecue, bouncy castle, enough kids to make your head spin—it’s an absolute goldmine." Bill pushed a stray piece of spaghetti around his plate, eyes glazed over. "Goldmine? You're talking about stolen Kinder chocolates and plastic dinosaurs, Molly. 'Operation Sugarplum Sabotage' sounds more like a bureaucratic nightmare than a heist." Molly rolled her eyes. “Don't be such a grump. This is kiddie couture, Bill! Limited edition stuffed unicorns, mini drones with flashing lights, those fidget spinners they all go mental for—it’s high-value, baby, high-value!" "Okay, okay," Bill conceded, finally picking up his fork. "But tell me again why we can't just, you know, ask for money like normal people?" “Because, my dear Bill," Molly said with a wink, "where's the fun in that? Plus, this Mrs. Johnson—she's got the kind of snooty laugh that needs a good dose of street justice.” "Street justice? Rebranding a raid on Christmas presents as 'street justice' is a new low, even for you, Molly." “Don’t underestimate this heist, Bill. It’s all about subtlety.” “Subtlety? You really think we can waltz into a room full of sugar-crazed mini-humans and pull off a covert operation?” "We're not waltzing in," Molly said, lowering her voice. “We stage a distraction. Remember that fake spider we got from that weird novelty shop? Black Widow, we call her. Little Timmy, the kid from down the street, is just the distraction I need.” Bill choked on his spaghetti. "You're going to freak out a six-year-old with a plastic spider just to clear the presents? Is that what we're doing now? Psychological warfare on kindergarteners?" "Oh, don't be such a killjoy, Bill," Molly grinned. "Think of it as positive reinforcement training. We're shaping the minds of future generations—teaching them to value experiences over material possessions." She paused, her face turning serious for a moment. "Well, at least that's what I'm going to tell the authorities." "You’re a monster," Bill mumbled, but there was a hint of amusement in his voice.