Molly peeked her head out from behind a large oak tree in the backyard of the house, glancing around furtively. "Coast is clear," she hissed. "Let's move!" Her partner in crime, Bill, crept up beside her, his eyes glinting with mischief and a hint of malice. "Piece of cake," he said with a grin. "A dozen bratty little rug rats won't be any trouble." "They've got to be at least five years old, you know," Molly replied dryly as they made their way toward the house. "And don't underestimate the cuteness factor. Those baby blues will melt even the hardest hearts." Bill snorted. "Not mine, sister. I'm stone cold." He hefted the duffel bag slung over his shoulder. "Now, where did you stash that spare key again? And don't tell me you left it on top of the doorframe or some dumb shit like that." "No, it'll be inside the mailbox, you uncultured swine," Molly shot back as they reached the back porch. She opened the screen door and reached for the handle...only to find it locked. "What the hell? It's supposed to be unlocked!" Frowning, Molly tried the other door, then the sliding glass one by the kitchen. All of them were firmly secured. Bill peered over her shoulder. "Well, well, well...looks like we got ourselves a little unexpected wrinkle in the plan," he said, voice dripping with false sympathy. "What's a couple of professional crooks to do now, eh? I mean, breaking in is just so déclassé. Maybe we should call this whole thing off and go back to the ol' hideout for some tea and crumpets instead." Molly fixed him with a withering glare, hands on her hips. "Shut up. You're not helping." She surveyed the yard, mind awhirl. The windows were all locked tight too - this was going to be trickier than she'd thought. But she was Molly "The Mastermind" Malone for a reason. "So, we'll just have to improvise," she declared after a moment. "I say we go in the front and ring the doorbell, nice and casual-like. When they open up, you and me rush the kiddos, stuff the goods in the sack, and hightail it out of there. Easy peasy