Molly adjusted her beret, eyeing the elaborate childproof locks with a smirk. "Alright, Bill, if we're gonna pull off this caper, we need to start early. The party's at 7 PM, we'll creep in before the kids wake up." Bill, balancing a plastic miniature Locksmith set, nodded while pretending to fiddle. "I'll keep an eye on the house while you distract those party goers. No need for thieves to get spotted." They stepped into the shadows just as the sun dipped below the horizon, fabrics rustling like whispers among the trees. The first noise came from a kitchen window, a child's giggle weaving through the dark. "Molly, I'm on it," Bill called with a wink and tiptoed closer to the glass. Slowly, the tiny lock silently obeyed the locksmith's whims as he marveled at his accomplishment. Outside, Molly danced in circles, tilling up the children's attention. She wore a cardboard cutout of a crying teddy bear, dolefully offering upstaged tea parties to draw little hands toward her. Bill caught the crinkled cookie jar, hesitated, then flinched. It was heavier than expected; the cookies' festive packaging held something more. "Looks like we have company," Molly's voice slithered in, her tone light but eyes darting. "Either exchange them for a cake recipe or they'll come looking for this loot of yours." Bill's heart skipped a beat. "Just our luck with a guard dog – greedy as a pig auctioning off truffles," he muttered, swiping swiftly a stash of homemade jams instead. They exchanged a triumphant glance. Knowing they'd have breakfast the next day, they retreated, leaving behind only the memory of a party too young to remember its surprises. With their breaths tucked away in secretive sighs, Molly and Bill melted into the night, swallowed by the vastness of their urban jungle heist.