Bill peered around the corner, a mischievous glint in his eye, as he nudged Molly aside. "Ready to ‘party’ like there’s no tomorrow?" he whispered, his smirk almost as sneaky as his tone. Molly, adjusting her gear, flashed a thumbs-up. “Always, as long as it's worth my comfort for a couple of laughed-out-louds," she quipped, with a layer of irony coating her words like the finest paint. They were on the verge of the ultimate switcheroo, swapping baby-blue birthday balloons for the shimmering boxes wrapped tight as confetti. 'The Great Party Apprehension,' Molly thought wryly, any misunderstanding about a thief going green at a children's party would be sweeter than cake icing. A hint of sunlight dared to creep in, as if warning of prying eyes. "Speaking of cake," Bill murmured, glancing at a lovingly crafted rainbow birthday cake, "that piñata's a tough piece of workmanship to crack." “Just perfect," Molly chuckled, reaching for her toolbelt. “Don’t you worry, I've got those Houdini tricks." She flipped her multi-purpose tool into her hand, a third piece to her puzzle. "Did you make those?" Bill inquired, eyebrows knitting together as Molly demonstrated. “Hou—" Before Bill could comprehend, Molly muttered under her breath, "It's all about the patience of a saint and the focus of a narcoleptic panda." She then rehearsed a line, "Excuse me, I’ve spotted a recalcitrant clown—" Her demonstration halted when their partner-in-crime, Frank, materialized out of the shadowy fringe for a quick inspection of the 'birthday tracks'. Frank was the nervous energy in their quartet, the ever-present checks and do's of the checklist. On to plan B, as whispered night-mare by nightmare. "You see, it's all about the art of misdirection," Casper, notorious for evading bobble-headed cops, lectured as they approached their grand larceny ensemble. "Besides, we can always moan like damned toddlers if we screw up." “Calm orchestration, Frank,” Molly instructed, her voice a soft caress against the clanging backdrop. The key was in the kids themselves. "Dance with a toddler, spin a happy face, shake on it," Bosco, the eldest member of their crew, and body double extraordinaire, pointed out. "But if you don’t tie it back to Mommy and Daddy, you're screwing with the timer," advising caution. Time dripped by as methodically as the pouring of honey from a jar. Molly and Bill, side by side at the edge of the party, watched as action unfolded like a well-rehearsed play. Every move choreographed in unwritten scripts of stealth and strategy. An adorable chorus of ‘Happy Birthday,’ captured the beat of pure human joy, outro’d by cheers and even a teetering profound display of tiny balloons. Suddenly, laughter collided with a misjudged grip—an earring boat disaster that sent three plastic gems skyward. Molly covered it with a nonchalant flick of the wrist, camouflage." Bill glanced down, eyes sparkling. "That’s perfect," he said, heart racing to the suspect syncopation of a greener fluorescent light. Once the toys were artfully packaged, the spoils barely beyond the tipping point of thank you notes and triplicate velvet ropes, the smug trio made their exit. "Infiltrate, encrypt, extract," Molly called out ritually as they shrugged off the facade, their protagonists concluding on a deceptive hero's path. With the storied party circuit-breaker poised, they vanished into the night, only their shares of diaper duty constant. Because what's a heist without a dastardly deed or two?