Molly crouched behind a colorful, inflatable dinosaur, her eyes darting from one distracted adult to another. "This is a cakewalk," she muttered under her breath, the corners of her lips curling into a cocky grin. Beside her, Bill fiddled with his lock picks, his breath coming out in shallow, nervous gasps. "Just like robbing a... uh... baby's room," he said, completion of the cliche out of fear of jinxing the operation. As the wooden front door of the house swung open, belching out the irresistible aroma of birthday cake, Molly and Bill snuck inside, blending into the chaos of squealing children and over-caffeinated parents. Through the corny, brightly colored streamers and the thumping beat of the Chicken Dance, they spotted their target: a towering pile of unwrapped presents, calling their names like a siren's song. Molly winked at Bill. "Piece of... birthday cake," she said, correcting herself just in time. With the grace of seasoned professionals, they weaved their way through the sea of ​​spilled orange soda and crumpled up party hats, the base of the present mountain in sight. "Wait!" Bill hissed, tugging on Molly's sleeve. "Look, one of those parental-units is giving us the stare!" Indeed, a suspicious-looking woman in a "Birthday Mom" apron was glaring their way, a half-eaten cupcake frozen halfway to her painted-on smile. "Don't.