Molly peered through binoculars at the bustling backyard party. "I count at least twenty wrapped boxes, Bill. This is gonna be a goldmine." Bill fidgeted nervously beside her. "I don't know, Mol. Stealing from kids feels wrong." "Wrong? We're professional thieves. Everything we do is wrong." "Yeah, but... it's little Timmy's birthday." Molly lowered the binoculars and glared at her partner. "How do you know the kid's name?" "I, uh, might've read the invitation." "You what? Where'd you get an invitation?" Bill shrugged sheepishly. "I know his mom." Molly groaned. "Great. Just great. Next, you'll tell me you brought a present." Bill's silence was deafening. "You didn't." "It's a really cool remote-controlled car," Bill mumbled. Molly pinched the bridge of her nose. "Okay, new plan. We go in, you give the kid his stupid car, we eat some cake, and then we leave. With empty hands and full stomachs." "Really? Thanks, Mol! You're the best partner ever." "Yeah, yeah. Just remember, next time we're robbing a retirement home. No excuses."