"You can't be serious," Molly said, adjusting her black beanie and leaning forward against the dashboard. Through the windshield, streamers and balloons decorated the suburban front yard. A banner reading "HAPPY 7TH BIRTHDAY TIMMY!" flapped in the gentle breeze. Bill shrugged, binoculars pressed to his eyes. "Dead serious. This is our big score." "Our big score is stealing wrapped toys from six-year-olds?" "Seven-year-olds," Bill corrected. "Did you not read the banner?" Molly slumped back against the passenger seat. "Oh, pardon me. Seven-year-olds. That makes it so much better." "Look, we've been over this." Bill lowered the binoculars. "These Highland Park kids get ridiculous gifts. I'm talking iPads, gaming consoles, designer clothes—not just some coloring books and action figures." "How do you even know what's in there?" "Facebook event page. Some mom posted about getting Timmy a limited-edition PlayStation. Another mentioned a drone. We're talking five grand in merchandise, minimum." Molly ran her hands through her hair. "So we're literally taking candy from babies now." "They're seven, not babies. And we're not taking candy. Well, maybe some cake if there's time." "Bill!" "What? I like cake." He reached into the back seat and pulled forward a duffel bag. "Look, I've got it all planned out. We go in through the side gate at three-fifteen when they start the magic show. Adults will be taking pictures, kids will be distracted. We slip upstairs, clear out the present table, and we're gone before the rabbit comes out of the hat." "And your brilliant disguise is...?" Bill unzipped the bag. "Party entertainers. I've got clown noses." "Clown noses? That's it?" "And these." He pulled out two garish Hawaiian shirts. "We'll look like we're with the entertainment company." "Because clowns traditionally wear Hawaiian shirts?" Molly asked, eyebrow raised. "It's a children's party, not Ocean's Eleven. Nobody's going to question two more adults in a house full of chaos." Molly stared at the red foam nose Bill was offering her. "This is a new low for us." "Higher risk, higher reward." Bill winked. "Plus, there's ice cream cake." "I can't believe I'm even considering this." "Think of it as wealth redistribution. These kids have three of everything already. We're just... preventing spoiling." Molly snorted. "Oh, now we're Robin Hood?" "Exactly! Except instead of giving to the poor, we're giving to us. And we are technically poor this month." "Our electricity got shut off once." "Twice," Bill corrected. "And I had to shower at the gym for a week." Molly took the clown nose reluctantly. "If we get caught, I'm telling the police this was entirely your idea." "Deal." Bill beamed, slipping on his own nose. "Now come on. Operation Birthday Heist starts in twenty minutes, and I want to scope out the cake situation." "This is absolutely the stupidest job we've ever done," Molly muttered, reluctantly pulling the Hawaiian shirt over her head. "That's what you said about the pet store job." "And I was right then too!"