"I can't believe we're actually planning this," Molly whispered, peering through her binoculars at the suburban house decked out in rainbow balloons and streamers. "We've hit banks, museums, even that weird rich guy's alpaca farm, but a kid's birthday party?" Bill adjusted his position behind the hedge, accidentally crushing a garden gnome. "Look, the Jensen family always goes overboard. Their little princess is turning eight, and half the toys from the mall are wrapped up in there." "Still feels wrong," Molly said, lowering the binoculars. "Wrong? Remember last month when we could barely afford ramen?" Bill pulled out a crude blueprint drawn on a McDonald's napkin. "Besides, these people put their party planning schedule on Facebook. Who does that?" Molly sighed, watching another minivan pull up to deposit more wrapped boxes. "Fine. Walk me through it again." "Alright, so at three o'clock, they're doing the magician show in the backyard. Every single parent and kid will be watching some guy pull a rabbit out of his hat. That gives us exactly twelve minutes to hit the gift table in the living room." "And you're sure about the dog?" "Old Rufus gets his arthritis medicine at two-thirty. He'll be knocked out cold in his bed by the time we move in." A group of squealing children ran past their hiding spot, making Molly flinch. "What about the teenage sister?" "Checked her Instagram. She'll be at the mall with her friends, complaining about having to share her weekend with her 'annoying little sister.'" Bill made air quotes with his fingers. "These people really need to learn about privacy settings." "I still can't believe we're stealing from children," Molly muttered, watching another enormous present being carried inside. "We're definitely going to hell for this." "Hey, we're stealing from rich parents who are trying to buy their kid's love. That's practically a public service." Bill pulled out his phone and showed her a photo. "Look at last year's party. The kid got three different iPad Pros. She's eight!" Molly squinted at the photo. "Is that a pony in their living room?" "Yep. They returned it the next day. These aren't exactly the most thoughtful gift-givers we're stealing from." A catering van pulled into the driveway, and several workers began unloading what appeared to be a chocolate fountain. Molly's resolve started to crack. "Okay, but we're not taking any homemade presents or cards. Those mean something." "Deal," Bill said, rolling up his napkin blueprint. "And hey, maybe we can donate some of these toys to that children's hospital we passed last week. You know, after we sell the iPads." "Now you're just trying to make me feel better about this." "Is it working?" "Little bit," Molly admitted, watching another stack of presents disappear through the front door. "But if we get caught, I'm telling everyone this was your idea." "Fair enough. Now come on, we need to go get changed. We've got a party to crash."