"I can't believe we're doing this," Molly muttered, peering through binoculars at the bounce house inflating in the backyard. "Kids get too many presents these days anyway," Bill replied, marking positions on a crude map drawn on a pizza box. "Character building, if you ask me." The late afternoon sun cast long shadows across their observation post behind Mrs. Henderson's hydrangeas. A steady stream of minivans had been dropping off wrapped boxes for the past hour. "How many six-year-olds did they invite?" Molly asked, lowering the binoculars. Bill tapped his pen against the pizza box. "Twenty-seven. I counted the unicorn invitations when I was posing as the mail carrier." "We're going to hell for this." "Already reserved our spots." Bill sketched another X on his map. "Look, when the magician starts his act at seven, we'll have exactly twelve minutes while everyone's distracted." Molly sighed, watching another parent struggle with an enormous gift bag. "Just promise me we're not taking the cake." "Please," Bill scoffed, "I'm a thief, not a monster. Though I hear it's ice cream cake." "Don't even think about it."