Molly drummed her fingers on the steering wheel, her eyes fixed on the cheerful balloons bobbing in the front yard of the suburban home. A banner reading "Happy 8th Birthday, Tommy!" fluttered in the breeze. Bill slouched in the passenger seat, absently fiddling with a lock pick. "You sure about this, Mol?" Bill asked, breaking the tense silence. "I mean, stealing from kids? That's pretty low, even for us." Molly sighed, exasperated. "We've been over this, Bill. It's not about the kids. It's about the presents. Do you have any idea how much money parents spend on birthday gifts these days?" "I dunno," Bill shrugged. "Fifty bucks?" "Try hundreds," Molly corrected. "And with at least twenty kids in there, we're looking at a goldmine of easily fenced loot." Bill scratched his head. "But won't the kids be sad?" Molly rolled her eyes. "They'll get over it. Now focus. What's our plan?" "Right, um," Bill fumbled, sitting up straighter. "We wait until they're all distracted by the clown—" "Magician," Molly interjected. "Whatever. When they're watching the magic show, we sneak in through the back door, grab the presents, and make our getaway." Molly nodded approvingly. "And how do we blend in?" Bill grinned, reaching into the backseat. He produced two garishly wrapped boxes. "We pose as late arrivals. These empty boxes are our tickets in." "Not bad, Bill," Molly admitted. "You're learning." They watched as a minivan pulled up, disgorging a pair of hyper children and their harried-looking mother. The kids raced inside, clutching brightly wrapped gifts. "Showtime," Molly announced, opening her door. As they approached the house, gift boxes in hand, Bill whispered, "What if someone recognizes us?" "In this neighborhood?" Molly scoffed. "Not likely. Just keep your head down and smile." They rang the doorbell, plastering on their best "parent" faces. A frazzled woman answered, her hair in disarray and a party hat perched askew on her head. "Oh, you must be here for Tommy's party!" she exclaimed. "Come in, come in! You're just in time for cake." Molly and Bill exchanged triumphant glances as they stepped inside. The house was a chaos of streamers, balloons, and sugar-fueled children. In the living room, a pile of presents threatened to topple over. "This is almost too easy," Molly murmured. "Yeah," Bill agreed uneasily. "Almost feels wrong, doesn't it?" Before Molly could respond, a small voice piped up beside them. "Are those for me?" They looked down to see a gap-toothed boy grinning up at them, pointing at their fake gifts. "Uh, yes!" Bill stammered. "Happy birthday, uh..." "Tommy," Molly supplied smoothly. The boy's face lit up. "Thanks! Can I open them now?" Molly and Bill shared a panicked look. "Well," Molly began, "actually—" She was cut off by a booming voice. "Alright, kids! Who's ready for some magic?" As the children swarmed towards the magician, Molly grabbed Bill's arm. "Now's our chance. Let's go." But Bill hesitated, watching Tommy's excited face as the magician produced a rabbit from his hat. "You know, Mol," he said slowly, "maybe we should rethink this one." Molly opened her mouth to argue, then closed it with a sigh. "Fine," she grumbled. "But next time, we're hitting a toy store. Deal?" Bill grinned. "Deal."