"Listen, Bill," Molly said, tapping a holographic image of a bouncy castle on her tablet. "This is our ticket in. Operation Sugar Rush is a go." Bill, sprawled on a plush beanbag chair in their hideout, muttered, "Are you sure about this, Molls? Kiddie parties? It's not exactly robbing Fort Knox, is it?" "Of course it's not," she snapped, "but those presents aren't wrapped in ironclad security. Think of it as ethical redistribution. Those sugar-fueled toddlers wouldn't even miss a plush unicorn or two, and wouldn't you rather be rid of that dustbin fire they call 'Max's Monster Mash' flavour cupcakes?" Bill shuddered. "You're damn right, those things are unholy abominations. Look, I'm in. Just promise me we're not going anywhere near the piñata. I still have nightmares from that glitter incident." "Don't worry, bunny ears aren't exactly valuable commodities." Molly grinned. "Besides, we'll be in and out before the kids even notice their high-tech robot dog is missing. We'll be like a whisper in the wind, a phantom in the pink balloons." "More like a pair of greasy fingerprints on a stolen train set," Bill grumbled. He picked up a toy helicopter, spinning its blades with a lackadaisical finger. "So, let's hear the plan." "Step one," Molly purred, unfolding a detailed blueprint on the table, "we create a diversion. I've got pal Vinnie lined up to 'accidentally' start a snowball fight with the parents, preferably near the gift table. Chaos, right there." Bill snatched the helicopter from the air and threw it, aiming at a stack of empty bubble tea cups. "Classic Vinnie. See, you can't find chaos in a minivan full of toddlers. It's just Ikea furniture and the faint scent of desperation." "Normal chaos works, Bill. Just trust me." Molly's eyes glinted. "Step two, you grab the presents, quick and nimble like the ninja master you are. We've identified the best loot - the high-priced STEM toys, the ones with the blinking lights and the promise of a future in robotics." "Aaah, yes, the type that require three degree's and a goat sacrifice to assemble," Bill muttered, setting down the superhero action figure he'd picked up from the pile. Molly slapped him playfully on the back. "Don't knock it till you try it! Look, this ain't just some random gift grab, Bill. This is about enriching our lives, diversifying our portfolio. Besides, what's more fulfilling than stealing a child's a robotic dog on Christmas Eve?" Bill sighed, picking up the robotic dog and examining its intricately designed features. "Alright, alright. Let's do this thing. But if we get devoured by a swarm of sugar high pirates, I'm blaming the cupcakes." "Deal," Molly grinned, now holding the blueprint up to his face. "Now, for the grand finale...stage invasion as a glamorous, retired unicorn model. What do you think?" Bill stared at her, eyebrows raised. "Okay, maybe not that," Molly admitted with a chuckle. "But come on, we'll rise to the occasion. We're the best damn heisters in the tri-county area... for now."