Molly peered through the binoculars, a gleam dancing in her eyes. "Bill, can you believe it? Every present at this shindigan is top-tier! Dollhouses, remote-controlled cars... even a mini-drone!" Bill, sprawled across the driver’s seat of their van, craned his neck to sneak a peek. "Hang on, are we really going to rob a kid's party? That's low, even for us." "Low, shmo. It's not like we're stealing from the kids themselves. We're liberating the gifts from their future capitalist trappings," Molly argued, barely keeping a straight face. Bill chuckled, twisting the rear-view mirror towards him. "Oh, right, the Robin Hoods of suburbia. Got it." "Exactly!" Molly clapped her hands, her eyes scanning the party setup. "We need a plan. Ideas?" Bill tapped his chin theatrically. "We go undercover. I'll be the clown." "Clown? Bill, have you ever made a balloon animal in your life?" "Well, no. But how hard can it be? Twist, twist, boom — giraffe." Molly snorted. "More like boom, pop, cry. I'll handle the clown part. You can be the magician." "Eh? Why do I have to be the magician?" "Because you’re good at making things disappear. Specifically, the evidence," she winked. Bill groaned. "Fine. What's the magic word to make this plan work?" "Abracadabra? No, wait — planning." Rolling his eyes, Bill pulled out a notepad. "Alright. We sneak in during the magic show. While I distract them with my 'spellbinding' tricks, you blend in with the caterers and scoop up the loot." "Brilliant. And how do we haul all the goodies out unnoticed?" "Easy. We say it's part of the act. 'For my final trick, I will make all the presents disappear!' Then we load up the van and poof — like a bad smell, we’re gone." Molly nodded approvingly. "This is golden. We might just pull this off without a hitch." Bill’s smirk faded a bit. "You ever feel a pinch of guilt, Mol? I mean, pinching from a kid’s bash?" Pausing, Molly's face softened. "Sometimes, yeah. But remember, we only hit the big-ticket parties. These tots won't miss a drone or two." Bill sighed, his ethical dilemma temporarily soothed. "Alright. But after this, maybe we should lay low. Hit up a corporate gig or something less... youthful." "Deal," Molly agreed, her gaze still fixed through the binoculars. "Okay, it’s showtime. Let’s clown around and bag us some birthday booty!" With a mutual nod, they ducked out of the van, each slipping into their absurd yet essential new identities. As they approached the bustling backyard filled with laughter and squealing children, Molly tugged the colorful clown wig down over her brows. Bill adjusted his magician's cape, rehearsing his best mystical gestures. This was going to be one heck of a performance.