Molly rubbed her gloved hands together, a sly grin spreading across her face. "Alright Bill, the plan is on. We hit the Smiths' Christmas party after the kids are done fighting over the last plate of juice." Bill nodded, his eyes scanning the address on the invitation. "You're sure the backyard is open to the public? I mean, I don't want us getting caught red-handed, or worse, dad-style." Molly snorted. "Dad's style? Please, I've stolen my fair share of presents from boring neighborhoods. It's a skill, trust me." Bill leaned back in his chair, his voice low. "Yeah, maybe so. So, when do we be there?" "A little after five. The Smiths always seem to think they've had time to polish the lawn." "Perfect. I was thinking we could bring some...flares. Just to, uh, add to the ambiance." Molly's voice dripped with sarcasm. "Yeah, that'll really draw the police attention away from our actual crime: stealing presents."