Molly paced back and forth in the cramped motel room, her eyes fixed on the hand-drawn map of the children's party venue taped to the wall. Bill lounged on the bed, his fingers drumming an impatient rhythm on the worn comforter. "We go in through the bounce house," Molly said, her voice low and even. "The kids will be too distracted by the ball pit to notice us." "And what about the party moms?" Bill asked, his tone dripping with skepticism. "You think they'll just be sitting around, sipping juice boxes and oblivious to our presence?" Molly shot him a withering look. "I've done my research, okay? These are the type of parents who hire a bouncy castle and a DJ. They'll be too busy trying to out-fun each other to notice us slipping in." Bill raised an eyebrow. "You're counting on the incompetence of suburban parents. I like it." Molly gave him a sly grin. "It's a solid plan, Bill. Trust me. We slip in, grab the presents, and we're out with a haul of designer toys and barely-used gift cards." "Sounds like a score, all right," Bill drawled. "But have you given any thought to the, you know, morality of the situation?" Molly snorted. "Morality? We're thieves, Bill. We've stolen from nursing homes and charity auctions. What's a few dozen traumatized kids to us?" "Nothing, nothing," Bill agreed, "but have you considered the toys themselves? All those Frozen dolls and Lego sets? We're not just stealing from kids, we're potentially crushing their childhood dreams." Molly rolled her eyes. "You're getting soft, Bill. We'll just fence the good stuff and donate the rest to a local charity. That way, we can assuage our guilt and make a tidy profit." Bill shook his head. "You're a wicked, wicked woman, Molly." Molly chuckled. "Hey, someone has to keep things interesting around here. Now let's gear up and get ready to crush some kids' birthday spirits." As they finalized their plan, Molly slipped into the bathroom to begin her disguise – a fussy, high-pitched persona that would blend seamlessly into the party crowd. Bill, meanwhile, donned a matching bright orange "Party Staff" t-shirt, a garment so screamingly obvious that it would likely render him all but invisible amidst the chaos of screaming children. They reconvened by the motel room door, where Molly bestowed upon Bill a ridiculous, oversized novelty hat. "There," she said, "now we're ready to crash this shindig." Bill glared down at the hat. "I hate you, Molly."