Molly squinted through her binoculars at the balloon-festooned backyard. "Look at all those wrapped boxes. Must be at least thirty presents stacked by that clown piñata." Bill fidgeted with his watch. "Kids' parties make me nervous. Too many witnesses with juice boxes." "Relax," Molly said, lowering the binoculars. "We go in during the cake feeding frenzy. Everyone will be distracted by little Timmy's sugar high." "What if they have party games? I can't handle musical chairs anxiety again." Molly rolled her eyes. "We're stealing presents, not participating in the festivities." "I'm just saying, those soccer moms have eyes like hawks," Bill muttered, checking the time again. "And what if there's a magician? They always suspect other tricksters." "The intelligence is solid. No magician, just a teenager in a princess costume who's getting paid minimum wage to make balloon animals." Bill sighed deeply. "Fine, but I'm not wearing that clown costume." "It's our cover, Bill." "Last time I wore greasepaint, I broke out in hives." "You want the LEGO sets or not?" "Fine. But you're carrying the gift bags this time."