Molly adjusted the binoculars, focusing in on the primary target: a giant, inflatable bouncy castle in the shape of a cartoon unicorn. Bill sat beside her, studying the crude blueprint of the party's layout. "Alright, so we've got the entrance, where the dumb pony is giving out hugs for five bucks a pop," Molly said, wincing at the mental image. "Then we've got the bouncy castle, which is where they're stashing the good stuff." Bill raised an eyebrow. "You mean the presents?" Molly nodded. "The ones worth breaking in for. We skip the craft table, head straight for the castle. If we time it right, the sugar-high crowd will be busy doing the chicken dance." Bill scanned the layout, tapping his finger on a crude drawing of a table laden with juice boxes. "What's the plan for the adults?" Molly gave him a sly smile. "We'll create a diversion. You know how easily adults can be distracted by free food. We place a fake catering truck on the perimeter and –" "Whoa, hold up. Fake catering truck? That's getting fancy, Molly. We're just after a bunch of Xboxes and Barbie dolls." Molly's eyes sparkled with mischief. "Not just any Barbie dolls, Bill. These are the ones with the obnoxious flashing tiara. Trust me, those suckers are going to be worth it." Bill sighed, tossing his napkin onto the makeshift blueprint. "Fine, but only because I love a good challenge. What's the in, then?" Molly's grin widened as she spotted their opening. "Birthday boy's mom has a fascination with 80s rock, judging by the karaoke playlist. We get in by delivering a fake cake in the shape of a Guns 'N' Roses album cover." Bill raised his eyebrows. "You've been doing your research." Molly laughed. "Just call me the sociopathic Oprah – you get a present, and you get a present, and everyone gets a present... in our getaway bags!" As they hashed out the finer details, their conversation dissolved into a fit of snickers. They chuckled at the absurdity of it all: crashing a kid's birthday party for the most epic gift heist of the century. Only they could make it work. As they cleaned up their hasty planning, Molly slung the backpack over her shoulder, already envisioning their bold getaway. Bill couldn't help but glance back at the party venue, his eyes scanning the sea of screaming children. For one fleeting moment, his expression softened, his eyes betraying a hint of the sentiment they usually avoided: guilt. But Molly turned to him, flashing her trademark cheeky smile, and Bill's doubts dissipated. It was back to business as usual – gifts were waiting, after all.