The dingy basement was lit by a single hanging bulb, casting harsh shadows across the cluttered workbench where Molly and Bill hunched over a crude map of the suburban birthday party venue. "You really think stealing from a bunch of six-year-olds is our best move?" Bill asked, twirling a screwdriver between his fingers. Molly rolled her eyes. "These aren't just any presents. The Hartman kid's parents are loaded. We're talking designer toys, limited edition action figures, probably some tech gadgets that haven't even hit the market." Bill leaned back in his rickety chair. "So we're basically doing a smash-and-grab at a kindergarten celebration?" "It's more strategic than that," Molly said, tapping the map. "Parents will be distracted. Bouncy castle, magician, maybe a clown. Chaos is our friend." "A clown?" Bill snorted. "Great. Nothing says 'professional heist' like stealing presents while Bozo the Entertainer is doing balloon animals." Molly traced a path on the map with a chewed pencil. "Side entrance near the kitchen. Minimal security. Parents always leave gift tables unattended during peak entertainment moments." "How much are we talking?" Bill asked, suddenly more interested. "Conservative estimate? Five grand in merchandise. Aggressive estimate? Maybe ten." Bill whistled. "That's a lot of birthday swag." "Precisely. And who's going to suspect two seemingly normal adults at a children's party?" Molly grinned, her teeth gleaming in the dim light. "We'll need costumes," Bill mused. "Something that screams 'responsible parent' but not too try-hard." Molly pulled out a folder. "Already prepared. Polo shirts, khakis, fake wedding rings. We look like suburban middle management." "Perfect camouflage," Bill nodded. "What's our exit strategy?" "Blend with the crowd during cake cutting. Most parents are watching their kids. We slip out with gift bags, looking like we're helping clean up." Bill scratched his chin. "And if someone asks?" "We're distant relatives. Cousins of a cousin. No one pays attention at these things." The plan was audacious, borderline ridiculous. Stealing from a children's birthday party required a specific blend of audacity and invisibility that only true professionals could execute. "One question," Bill said, leaning forward. "What if a kid sees us?" Molly's smile was both mischievous and calculated. "We've got emergency chocolate bars and stickers. Distraction is an art form, my friend." They clinked coffee mugs, the plan solidifying between them like a bizarre professional agreement. Just another day in the unconventional world of opportunistic theft, where a children's birthday party represented nothing more than a target-rich environment.