Molly: Bill, I've got the perfect job for us. We're gonna hit a party, grab all the loot, and nobody's the wiser. Piece of cake, eh? Bill: Really? What kind of party? You know I don't like mingling with high society types. I can't even pronounce half the cheeses they serve. Molly: Relax, Bill, this is an entirely different kind of party. It's a... *kids* party. Bill: You're kidding me, right? We're trained thieves, Molly, not glorified clowns. I'm not wearing one of those ridiculous wigs and honking a horn at a bunch of screaming brats. Molly: Calm down, Bill. We're not crashing the party as entertainers. We're going in as... *ahem*... *parents*. We'll blend right in, take the presents, and leave without a trace. Bill: Uhh, Molly, just because you can stuff your... ehm... assets into a frumpy skirt, doesn't mean you'll convince anyone you're a mom. And me? I look like I ate an entire daycare center for breakfast. Molly: Trust me, Bill, I've got this figured out. I've already rented us some disguises. You'll see. We'll be mistaken for the hip, but slightly odd, uncle and auntie. Bill: Alright, Molly, but you better be sure about this. I've seen the way those PTA moms look at each other. I'm pretty sure they've got their