Molly drummed her fingers on the coffee shop table, studying the birthday party invitation they'd swiped from the mailbox. The cartoon dinosaurs dancing across the paper made her stomach turn. Bill slouched in his chair, absently stirring his fourth sugar packet into his already syrupy coffee. "Twenty kids, Bill. That's at least forty presents." Molly's eyes gleamed as she calculated the potential haul. The evening crowd bustled around them, providing perfect cover for their plotting. A barista dropped a metal pitcher with a clang, making Bill jump. He'd been on edge since their last job went sideways at the retirement home. "I don't know, Mol. Something about stealing from kids feels different." Molly rolled her eyes and folded the invitation into a precise triangle. The coffee shop's Edison bulbs cast shadows across her face as she leaned forward. Party decorations, gift bags, and wrapped boxes filled her mind like a shopping list of opportunities. "They're six-year-olds. They'll forget about it in a week when the next shiny thing comes along. Besides," she smiled, "we're not stealing from kids. We're stealing from their parents."