"So you're telling me the parents are hiring for a kid's party like we've never seen before?" Bill's voice squeaked with amusement as he scanned the neighborhood. "More like a kiddie murder," Molly whispered, her eyes scanning the living room through the window. A ball pit lay abandoned across the floor, toys scattered everywhere. "I know, right? I've got a five-year-old by the name of Timmy who will be crashing and causing chaos the whole day. And a three-section cake with red frosting." Bill snorted. "Sounds like a real hoot." They both had been casing this suburban cul-de-sac for weeks, and finally found the perfect score. The Joneses were hosting a "Santa's Little Helper" party for their pint-sized pickpocket. The more exciting plot device, nothing. "Alright, Molly, we need to talk about how we're going to get in. We don't want any kids running off without presents," Bill said, his eyes roving to the various hiding spots around the party. "And what's with the music? I'm sure they'll have earplugs." "Good point. I did use some thermal imaging on the vents. If we can get inside, it's like swimming through a snowbank of kids' toys. But we need to get past the parents, then," Molly replied, tapping the side of the house. The Joneses had let their guard down at 8 a.m. when they arrived for coffee and pastries. "We need to find a window," Bill said, his voice low. "I spot one on the porch. It's big enough, too. But you don't want to draw attention from the gazebo party in full swing." Molly's face lit up. "Oh, that's the one! The one with the slide and the kiddie clown. Our exit route is perfect," she said with a triumphant grin. As they made their way along the wall, Molly added, "Next, we need to block the doors. I've got a stash of silly string and a roll of duct tape – just in case." Bill chuckled. "You know we won't need that at this point. We trust you, Molly, I can handle this." Their plan was to snoop in and sniff out the presents, pilfering them, and then slip back out unnoticed. The trouble was, they knew the Joneses would have motion-activated sprinklers, motion detectors in the decorations, and a real party party just waiting to happen. "Okay, Molly, I see our cake. The three-section masterpiece." Bill crooned. "Time to start making sandwiches." Molly rolled her eyes good-naturedly. "Yeah, too late for that," she muttered. Bill grinned and sauntered off, emerging with the perfect three-section cake. "Time to join the party. Just for a minute." As they slid under the table, the kids started their ruckus. The laughter and shouts filled the air, and Molly mouthed "Gotcha" to Bill through her earpiece. He winked back. "Got it, got it. Stealing a Christmas miracle or two," he muttered as they made a break for the door.