In the shadows of the suburban cul-de-sac, Molly and Bill huddled, their breaths visible in the chilly night air. The house before them was a beacon of childhood innocence, its windows aglow with the laughter and chatter of a dozen children. Molly checked her watch, her gloved hands steady. "Five minutes till the parents start cleaning up," she murmured. Bill, his eyes scanning the house, nodded. "Kids'll be distracted with the piñata. We'll slip in, grab the presents, and vanish." Molly smirked, her eyes gleaming. "Like Santa's evil cousins." Bill chuckled, "Just remember, no touching the cake. Last time you ate the evidence, we ended up in a sugar coma." Molly rolled her eyes, but her smile gave her away. "Fine, fine. No cake. Let's just make this our best Christmas heist yet."