Molly fiddled with the grey umbrella, her eyes scanning the row of houses across the street. "How many times have we rehearsed this, Bill?" Bill, hunched over a notebook, scribbled furiously. "At least ten, maybe fifteen. You're getting impatient again, aren't you?" "Impatient? This is our tenth birthday party break-in. Of course, I'm impatient." Bill looked up from his notes, his reliably round face concerned. "Hey, it's not like it's the first time. You know the drill. We got this." Molly rolled her eyes. "Yeah, yeah, yeah. Eight years of practice, and still, I'm on edge." Bill closed his notebook and tucked it into his jacket pocket. "Fine. Let's go over it one more time." He stood and approached the fence, eyeing the birdbath where they'd stashed their gear. "We hit the front door during the piñata, create a distraction. You grab the presents while I handle the door. Sprinting out the back, we rendezvous at the van." "Traditional, but effective," Molly quipped. "And once we've got the loot, what's the plan for distributing?" Bill flashed a Cheshire grin. "The usual. Our mysterious benefactor pays top dollar for brand-new toys and electronics. We just need to pick the right target—an affluent suburban family with an unfortunate predilection for excessive gifting." Molly sighed. "I'm always torn between guilt and excitement at the madness of it all." Bill clapped her on the shoulder. "Ah, comes with the job, love. Now, let's get moving. Time for us to make some little brats' day a little less bright." They crossed the street, weaving through the throngs of trick-or-treaters and rowdy children. Molly led them to the home that never deviated from the trends, a McMansion festooned with decorations spelling out "Happy 8th Birthday, Timmy!". The glow of clowns and princesses adorned the lawn, and an inflated bounce house threatened to carry them into the next block. As the buzzer from the next house faded, Molly and Bill darted for the door. The cacophony erupted, and Bill yanked open the entrance, revealing a cacophony of chaos. Children shrieked as balloons popped, and revelers stumbled into the fray. "Now!" Bill shouted, disappearing down the hallway. Molly pelted into the throng of shrieking toddlers, grabbing gift bags and blocks by the armful. A Nerf gun bounced off her shoulder, and a piñata crash-landed ten feet away, candy and confetti spraying in every direction. In her haste, she snagged a teddy bear, a tricycle, and an Amazon box—contents unknown—an d tossed them over her shoulder in their direction. A hoard of children chased after them, bellowing for presents. Molly dashed for the patio door, racing down the steps as the van came into view. An ensemble of Frozen dolls and a remote-controlled car clattered about the gravel. Bill pulled open the back, and with one final heave, Molly hurled the loot into the shadows, narrowly avoiding a barreling skateboard. "Get in!" Bill yelled, slamming the door behind her as they peeled away from the mayhem. Molly exhaled, retrieving the teddy bear from the driver's side, and held it like a talisman. Bill glanced at her through the mirror, chuckling. "You really need to stop getting attached, Molly. We're not taking in strays here." Molly's lips twitched. "Oh, shut up. You know it's just for luck." He winked. "Always has been our lucky bear." As they merged onto the highway, their heist complete, Molly rubbed the bear's plush head. The wind through the half-open window carried the laughter and chaos of the children's party fading into the distance. "Next up—the McPhersons'," Molly declared, mischief dancing in her eyes. Bill grinned. "Should be a piece of cake."