The worn-out diner was a hub for late-night schemers and early risers, its neon lights attracting those who operated in the shadows like moths to a flame. Molly and Bill huddled in a corner booth, their whispers muffled by the cacophony of clinking dishes and hushed conversations. They pored over a crude map of the upscale neighborhood, a bright pink sticker marking their target. "Okay, so we've got two entrances, one through the front door and one through the backyard," Bill said, his fingers tracing the layout of the house. "But we need to be careful – there's going to be at least a dozen screaming kids running around." Molly snorted, her curly brown hair bobbing with the motion. "You think a few sugar-high toddlers are going to give us trouble?" Bill shot her a dry look. "You underestimate the ferocity of a seven-year-old defending their piñata." Molly chuckled, her eyes crinkling at the corners. "Alright, alright. We'll come in through the back and try to avoid the festivities. What's the party schedule looking like?" Bill consulted a printout from the parent's support group forum. "According to 'HappyMom87,' the gift-giving extravaganza starts at 3 PM sharp. We should aim to hit the place around 2:30, while they're still distracted with games and snacks." Molly's grin grew mischievous. "I do love a good game of Pin the Tail on the Donkey. And by that, I mean, I love swooping in and stealing the presents while everyone's distracted by the blindfolded kid stumbling around." Bill's eyes scanned the map, his brow furrowed. "We still need to figure out how to get past the party planner. From what I gather, she's a pro – complete with a Martha-Stewart-esque checklist and an army of bored teenagers handing out goody bags." Molly waved a hand dismissively. "Leave her to me. I'll charm her into showing me the present table while you sneak in and start scooping up the loot." Bill raised an eyebrow. "What makes you think she'll fall for it?" Molly batted her eyelashes. "Hey, I've got a degree in small talk and a minor in getting what I want. Besides, have you seen my outfit for this gig?" She rummaged through her bag and produced a garish, bright pink jumpsuit. "Who wouldn't trust this face – or this fashion sense?" Bill rubbed his temples, his eyes watering at the sight of the outfit. "I think I need to reevaluate our partnership. And possibly invest in some sunglasses." Molly just winked and tucked the jumpsuit away. "Too late now, partner. We're in this together – and we're coming out with a truckload of stolen toys."