Molly leaned back in the rickety kitchen chair, her combat boots propped up on the table, examining a crude hand-drawn map of the suburban birthday party venue. Bill sat across from her, nervously tapping a pencil against his clipboard. "So let me get this straight," Bill muttered, "we're robbing a seven-year-old's birthday party?" "Not just robbing," Molly corrected, "strategically redistributing gift-based wealth." Bill raised an eyebrow. "That sounds like something a criminal would say to feel better about themselves." "Which we are," Molly said with a grin. "Professional criminals. With a code." The map showed a meticulously detailed layout of the backyard, complete with balloon clusters, bounce house locations, and what appeared to be strategic hiding spots near the gift table. Colored pencil markings indicated potential entry and exit routes. "The parents will be distracted," Molly explained, tracing a line with her finger. "Typical suburban chaos. Kids running everywhere, parents trying to manage sugar-fueled mayhem." Bill sighed. "We could just, you know, do a normal heist. Like stealing from a museum or a rich person's house." "Where's the challenge in that?" Molly scoffed. "This requires precision. Timing. Stealth." "And zero moral high ground," Bill added dryly. Molly rolled her eyes. "We're taking gifts from privileged children who already have too much. Think of it as a redistribution mission." "That's literally just theft," Bill said, but he was already studying the map with increasing interest. The plan was elegant in its simplicity. Wait until the piñata moment - peak parental distraction - then sweep through and collect wrapped presents in specially designed lightweight duffel bags. They'd practiced the movement dozens of times in their warehouse training space. "Costume?" Bill asked. "Clown," Molly answered without hesitation. "Who suspects a clown?" "Everyone suspects clowns," Bill muttered. "Literally everyone." "Not at a children's party," she countered. "We'll blend right in. I've got the makeup, the oversized shoes, the whole ridiculous outfit." Bill shook his head but couldn't suppress a small laugh. "This might be the most ridiculous job we've ever planned." "Precisely why it'll work," Molly said, tapping the map confidently. "No one expects professional thieves to target a bunch of screaming children and their mountain of Lego sets and action figures." The room fell silent as they both contemplated the audacity of their plan. Outside, a car backfired, making Bill jump slightly. "We're really doing this?" he asked. Molly's grin was pure mischief. "Absolutely."