Molly leaned against the nondescript van, her arms crossed as she eyed the bouncy castle across the street. "You know, Bill, when they said 'crime doesn't pay,' they obviously never considered the lucrative market of reselling children's toys." Bill, crouched behind a bush with a pair of high-powered binoculars, didn't skip a beat. "Molly, my dear, we're not just stealing presents. We're liberating them from the clutches of sugared-up ankle-biters who'll forget they ever existed by dinner time." "Liberating, huh? Is that what we're calling it these days?" Molly chuckled, pushing off from the van to join Bill in the bushes. "What's the plan, then? Wait for the kids to pass out from cake overdose and waltz in?" "Something like that," Bill replied, lowering the binoculars. "We've got two options: we go in hot during the chaos of the piñata massacre, or we wait until the little darlings are tucked away in their beds, dreaming of loot boxes and Fortnite dances." Molly tapped her finger against her chin, considering the options. "Hot entrance has flair, I'll give you that. But wouldn't it be less conspicuous to slip in after dark? Fewer eyes, fewer questions." Bill nodded thoughtfully. "True, but we'd have to deal with the post-party security. You know, overzealous dads wearing 'Kiss Me, I'm the Birthday Dad' aprons, armed with super soakers and walkie-talkies." "Ah, the infamous Birthday Dad brigade," Molly mused. "We'll need a distraction. Something big, something that'll make them abandon their posts." "I've got just the thing," Bill said, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Remember that remote-controlled T-Rex we 'borrowed' from the toy store last month?" Molly's eyes lit up. "Oh, you mean Terry? He's perfect! We dress him up in a party hat and let him loose. The kids will love it, and the dads will be too busy chasing him to notice us." "Exactly," Bill agreed. "We'll have a clear path to the gift table. In and out like ninjas with ADHD." "But what about the mothers? They're always watching, like hawks on a caffeine buzz," Molly pointed out. "Easy," Bill said with a grin. "We set up a decoy. A second T-Rex, causing havoc on the opposite side of the house. The moms will flock to it, convinced it's the main event." Molly laughed, clapping her hands together. "Bill, you're a genius. Two T-Rexes, one party, and a van full of presents. This is going to be epic." "Just remember, we're not here to make friends," Bill cautioned. "We're here to make a profit. So, no getting attached to the loot. Especially not the light-up sneakers or the miniature kitchen sets." Molly feigned offense. "Me? Get attached? Never. I'm as cold-hearted as they come. Besides, those sneakers are two sizes too small for me." "Good. Because I won't have you trying to justify keeping a stuffed unicorn because it 'spoke to you,'" Bill jibed. "No promises," Molly retorted with a wink. "But I'll try to keep my inner child in check." Bill checked his watch. "Alright, let's gear up. We've got a party to infiltrate, a dinosaur duo to deploy, and a small fortune in poorly wrapped gifts to liberate." Molly saluted sharply. "Aye aye, captain. Let's show these kiddos how the big leagues do a heist." With a shared nod of anticipation, Molly and Bill began their preparations, the evening's escapades promising a haul that would be the talk of the underground playground for years to come.