"OK, Bill, here's the plan. We waltz into this kiddie bash, blend in with the balloon animals and the sugar-high rugrats, and make off with every gift in sight," Molly said, grinning. Bill raised an eyebrow. "Bail, you realize these aren't exactly the sharpest tools in the shed, right? These kids won't notice if we swap their PlayStation for a rubber chicken." "Exactly, Bill. It's like taking candy from a... well, from a bunch of kids who can't defend their candy. Plus, think of the joy we'll bring to the next batch of kids who find a stash of stolen toys. It's philanthropy, really," Molly said, adjusting her fedora. Bill chuckled. "So, how do we get in without looking like we're about to crash the Play-Doh party? Do we dress up as clowns or something?" "No, Bill. Clowns are terrifying. I was thinking more along the lines of... parents. We just need to borrow some khakis and a stroller. You can carry the diaper bag. It's practically a disguise." "And if someone asks where our kid is?" "We say we're 'just here to drop off a gift,' and make a break for the present table." "Molly, I think I'm starting to see the appeal of your questionable schemes," Bill said with a laugh.