Molly crouched behind a hydrangea bush, her eyes darting between the balloon-festooned gate and the bouncy castle that towered like a pastel fortress in the heart of the garden. Bill joined her, munching on a pilfered cocktail sausage. "You sure this is a good idea, Bill? Seems a bit... harsh, don't you think?" Molly whispered, her gaze lingering on a group of children chasing soap bubbles. Bill swallowed, wiping his hands on his black turtleneck. "Harsh? This is a masterclass in redistribution, Mol. Those kids won't even miss the presents. They've got more toys than they know what to do with." Molly raised an eyebrow. "And we're going to solve that problem by stuffing their loot down our pants?" "Exactly," Bill said, grinning. "Think of it as a... Robin Hood situation. Only we're keeping the goods." "Robin Hood had a heart, Bill. And he didn't steal from kids." "Technicalities," Bill waved off, pulling out a pair of oversized, polka-dotted sunglasses. "We're modern-day antiheroes." Molly sighed, shaking her head. "Fine, but if we get tackled by a mob of sugar-fueled six-year-olds, I'm blaming you." "Deal," Bill chirped, slapping on a party hat. "Now, let's synchronize our watches. We strike when the clown starts the puppet show. That's when the chaos will be at its peak." Molly checked her watch, a frown creasing her forehead. "You know, I always thought I'd be robbing banks or museums, not children's birthday parties." "Ah, but the best heists are the ones no one sees coming," Bill said, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "Besides, who's going to suspect us? We'll blend right in." With a shared nod, they synchronized their watches and waited for the signal. The clown's overly enthusiastic voice echoed through the garden, and the children's laughter reached a crescendo. It was time. Molly and Bill, the unlikeliest of bandits, crept toward the bounty of brightly wrapped boxes, ready to pull off the most whimsical heist of their careers.