Molly flipped through the planner, her brow furrowed in concentration. The room around her was chaotic – maps strewn across the floor, sticky notes covering the walls, and the scent of cold pizza lingering in the air. Finally, she slapped the book closed and grinned at Bill, who was busily tying knots in various pieces of rope. “Okay, I’ve got it,” Molly announced, her voice a mix of excitement and mischief. “This Saturday, the Johnsons’ kid is throwing the biggest bash of the year. Rumor has it that even the mayor’s spoilt nephew is invited.” Bill looked up, interest piqued. “The Johnsons, huh? Aren’t they the ones with that monstrous dog?” Molly waved off the concern with a flick of her wrist. “Relax, Fido is at the vet for the weekend. The coast is clear.” “What’s the haul?” Bill asked, now fully engaged and abandoning his rope project. “Gifts that mingle with the high seas,” she said. “Drones, the latest game consoles, designer kiddie wear. It’s a goldmine, and it's all ripe for the taking if we can just waltzzle into that party.” Bill snorted. “Yeah, right. Just waltz in, dressed as what? Clowns? Magicians?” “Better,” Molly winked. “We’re going as the entertainment. Puppeteers. Kids can’t resist a good puppet show.” Bill chuckled. “I can barely resist your puppeteering, and I’m fifty-two.” They laughed together, the sound bouncing off the walls filled with Molly’s elaborate charts and scribbles. “So, what’s the plan?” Bill asked, pulling over a chair. Molly laid out the blueprint of the house she had meticulously drawn. “We arrive early, set up the puppet theater right here, by the garden. While I dazzle the kiddos and their minders with Mr. Squiggles and his marionette pals, you’ll be on present duty.” “Mr. Squiggles?” Bill raised an eyebrow but nodded along. “Mm-hmm, and while they’re all laughing, you quietly make your way to where the gifts are stashed. The Johnsons always show off, probably have them piled high near the foyer to impress the other snooty parents.” Bill tapped the map. “Escape route?” “The old Henderson gate in the back garden. It hasn’t been locked in ages. We leave the same way we came in, simple and clean.” “Like taking candy from a baby,” Bill muttered, though he sounded slightly remorse Plan A was perfect, but there was always the hint of unpredictability with these plans. “Exactly. And Plan B?” Bill inquired, always the one to manage the what-ifs. Molly grinned devilishly. “We dazzle them with an encore performance, buying us more time to escape or hiding the gifts in plain sight - amongst our fake puppet crates.” Bill nodded appreciatively, “Brilliant, Molly. The perfect children’s crusade.” “Right then,” Molly clapped her hands once, decisively. “Let’s pack up. We’ve got puppets to rehearse and props to prepare. Ranveer's party is just the beginning.” As they packed up their plotting paraphernalia, the thrill of the upcoming heist pulsed through their veins. They were not just thieves; they were showmen, orchestrators of their own fateful comedies. The presents were merely the tickets to their next performance, and they were ready to play their roles to perfection.