Molly: "You won't believe this, Bill, there's a high-profile kid's party going down at the mansion on Cypress next Saturday. All the rich parents in the city are going to be there, probably drinking out of champagne flutes, while their brats eat cake off sterling silver plates. And do you know what these parents give their rugrats? Top-tier loot, all stacked under one roof plus security that couldn't catch a cold." Bill: (laughs) "The party of the century for the one-percenters. I'm sold. I'm telling you, Molly, this could be our golden ticket." Bill crossed his arms, eyes twinkling with mischief. "How's the access plan coming along?" Molly: "My niece, Mia, is invited. I'm hacked into the host's email, got them to send me the invitation. So, we're walking in as a chaperone and caterer. And to pacify the needy gossips, Mia'll be with us, basking in her cuteness." Bill: "No chance of suspicion with kids, huh? Smart move." He cocked his head. "What's the lay of the land?" Molly: "The main hall is an open space filled with presents. Hands off the bouncy castle or else we'll face inflatable Armageddon. And don't get caught by Truman the watchdog. Giant, purebred rottweiler. Trust me, he's got bite. A distraction and stealth will be key." Bill: "Yeah, we need a disguise, too." Molly: "Uh-huh. Think clowns. They'll love the clowns." Bill groaned. "Clowns? We'll stick out like plumbers at a surgeon's conference." Molly shrugged. "One of us will need to divert the party-goers, right? And clowns are how we'll sneak in the back." Bill: "Fine, fine. How 'bout we sneak the goods in the mobile kitchen cart?" Molly: "Bit small. Here's an idea. We'll use the sleigh that'll be decorating the place. Pile the presents in it, and once the cover of darkness falls, we hitch the horses, and we're out of here. Trust me, they'll have Santa on a reserve contract to make a grand exit, and we'll blend right in." Bill scratched his chin. "Smooth. But what if they have hidden cameras?" Molly slyly reached under the table and produced a small pouch. "Contingency plan. These muffs can disrupt any cameras within a five-mile radius. We'll sync it to high speed at the right moment, then leg it for the door." Bill: "You've thought this through. All right, Molly, I'm excited; it's gonna be pure holiday heist havoc." Molly flashed a grin. "And when we're in the wind, we'll have toys to last us till retirement." Bill stood up. "Sounds perfect. You get the costumes and muffs, and I'll procure the horses. The question is, what'll we repeat to these precocious young minds?" Molly: "Nothing complicated. We'll be practicing our slapstick routines. Done right, their laughter will drown out our moves, leaving us free to collect the spoils." Bill tossed the napkin on the table. "Agreed, let's gather, and we'll nail this." Molly: "Finger on pulse, aye? Oh, Bill, don't worry about botching the comedy. I've got clips of the Three Stooges for you. Watch and laugh, then steal the routine." Bill smirked. "I'll be a comic genius by Saturday." Molly: "Don't sweat it. Now, let's get this show on the road." Bill: "Cheers to that! And another job under our belts, Molly." Their glasses clinked. Molly: "To the perfect heist, here's to hitting for the kids." Bill: "To the kids, indeed." They drank their coffee, motivating their fingers to move. The screenplay for the Christmas caper was set. In truth, it was a robbery, but who cared about semantics when the swag was the ingredient for a perfect Christmas plot.