"I can't believe we're actually doing this," Molly whispered, adjusting her fake party planner badge in the side mirror of their parked van. "Look, the economy's tough. Besides, kids these days get too many presents anyway. We're basically doing their parents a favor," Bill replied, rifling through a duffel bag of supplies. "Still feels wrong. Like stealing candy from a baby." "That's literally what we're about to do. Along with video games, toy robots, and whatever else rich parents buy their spoiled brats these days." Molly rolled her eyes. "You're just bitter because your mom never got you that Nintendo when you were eight." "It was a Sega Genesis, and yes, I am." Bill pulled out two earpieces. "Here, put this in. According to the party schedule, the magician starts at three, which gives us exactly twelve minutes to get in and out while everyone's distracted by some guy pulling rabbits out of his hat." "What's our cover story again?" "We're from Perfect Party Planning Plus, here to check on the bounce house safety regulations. Parents eat that safety stuff up nowadays." "And the presents are where?" "Sun room, east side of the house. Rich people always have a sun room." Bill zipped up the duffel bag. "Just follow my lead and try to look professional." "I used to be a kindergarten teacher. I know how to handle kids." "Yeah, until you got fired for teaching them how to pick locks." "It was an educational demonstration about fine motor skills!" "Sure it was. Ready?" "Wait," Molly grabbed his arm. "What if there's a guard dog?" "At a six-year-old's birthday party?" "You'd be surprised. Some of these suburban moms are intense." Bill sighed. "I've got treats in my pocket. Now can we go? That magician's not gonna fumble with his doves forever." They stepped out of the van, and Molly straightened her blazer. "One more thing - what if some kid catches us?" "Then we'll tell them we're Santa's helpers doing a routine present inspection. Kids are dumb, they'll believe anything." "That's actually not bad." "I know. I've been doing this a long time." "Stealing from children's parties?" "No, lying to children. I used to work as a mall Santa." Molly stifled a laugh. "You? A mall Santa?" "Hey, the beard was very convincing. Now focus - we've got exactly ten minutes before the magic show ends and thirty sugar-rushed kindergarteners come flooding back inside." "Fine. But if we get caught, I'm telling everyone this was your idea." "Deal. And Molly?" "Yeah?" "Try not to teach any more kids about lock-picking while we're in there." "No promises. Some of these rich kids could use a practical skill or two." They walked up the perfectly manicured pathway, their fake badges gleaming in the afternoon sun. The sound of children's laughter and a slightly frustrated magician drifted from the backyard. Bill reached for the doorbell, then paused. "Ready to ruin some privileged kid's birthday?" Molly grinned. "Let's go steal Christmas." "It's March." "Whatever. Just ring the bell."