Molly drummed her fingers on the steering wheel, peering through binoculars at the balloon-festooned house across the street. A banner reading "Happy 7th Birthday, Emma!" flapped in the afternoon breeze. "Look at that haul," she whispered, nodding toward the gift table visible through the bay window. "Designer toys, video games, probably cash in those cards." Bill slouched in the passenger seat, fiddling with his lock picks. "I dunno, Mol. Kids' party seems low, even for us." "Low? It's brilliant. Security's non-existent, and everyone's distracted by that clown." Bill winced as the red-nosed performer made an animal balloon. "When do we move?" "During the cake. Sugar-fueled chaos, parents taking pictures. Perfect cover." "What if we get caught?" Molly lowered the binoculars, shooting him an exasperated look. "Then we run. What are they gonna do, throw juice boxes at us?" "Fine," Bill sighed, pulling a black knit cap over his thinning hair. "But I draw the line at stealing actual cake." "Please. You know I'm gluten-free anyway," Molly replied, checking her watch. "Twenty minutes till candles. Ready to make some birthday wishes disappear?"