Molly crouched behind a sprawling hydrangea bush, her eyes darting to the brightly lit backyard where balloons bobbed in the late afternoon breeze. Beside her, Bill was fiddling with a gadget that looked suspiciously like a child’s walkie-talkie. "Molly, are you sure about this?" Bill whispered, barely audible over the sound of giggling children. "Absolutely," Molly hissed back, adjusting her black beanie. "It's the perfect cover. Who suspects party crashers at a kiddie soiree?" Bill frowned, peering through the leaves. "But stealing presents? It feels a tad... low." "Low? Bill, those are limited edition Ponycorn dolls in there. You know, the ones that talk and poop glitter? They’re worth a fortune on eCollector!” Bill’s eyes widened as he caught a glimpse of a Ponycorn box through the window. "Glitter poop, you say? Alright, I'm in." "Here’s the plan,” Molly started, pulling out a crumpled sheet of paper from her jacket. “We blend in, nab the gifts, and slip out. Easy peasy." Bill chuckled. "You make it sound like we're just pinching cookies from a jar." Molly smirked. "Oh, you prefer a challenge? Maybe we should juggle the Ponycorns while making our escape on unicycles." "Let's just stick to walking, shall we?" Bill rolled his eyes, tucking the walkie-talkie into his pocket. “Okay, we go in during the magic show. The magician is bound to pull everyone's attention.” Bill nodded. “Right, everyone loves a good disappearing act. Speaking of which, how do we vanish with the loot?” Molly pointed to a clown car parked across the street. “That’s our getaway. Literally no one will bat an eye.” “A clown car? Really?” Bill’s voice was half amusement, half admiration. "Hey, it's thematic." Molly grinned. "Now, shuffle like you’re excited about balloon animals and not committing a mild felony." They approached the yard with all the feigned enthusiasm of party-loving adults. A clown waved them over, handing each a conical hat. "Blend in," Molly murmured under her breath as they mingled, inching closer to the mountain of presents stacked under a banner that read 'Happy 7th, Tommy!' Bill, now holding a plastic cup of punch, leaned in. "Operation Ponycorn is a go?" "Operation Ponycorn is a go," confirmed Molly, surveying the party landscape. She bumped into a pirate-costumed entertainer, apologizing as she pocketed a few smaller gifts. As the magician started his show, pulling rabbits out of hats and performing card tricks, Molly and Bill made their move. They stuffed the shiniest, most gift-wrapped boxes into large party bags. Just as they were about to congratulate themselves on a heist well-executed, a voice piped up behind them. "Hey, why are you taking all the presents?" They turned, slowly, to find a pint-sized superhero staring up at them with big, curious eyes. Bill gulped, improvising wildly. "Well, we're... um, present inspectors! Yep, official business. We’re making sure these are the coolest presents ever!" The child squinted. "Really?" "Cross my heart," Molly jumped in, tapping her chest. "We're taking them for a, uh, super-duper inspection! We bring 'em right back!" "Okay!" the kid shrugged, satisfied with their 'official' role, and ran off. Bill let out a deep breath. "Present inspectors?" Molly chuckled, adjusting her bag of loot. "Kid's got imagination. Come on, let’s scoot before our cover is blown."