Shadows spilled across the manicured front lawn as Molly and Bill crouched behind a riot of perennials. Their hearts thumped to a delirious rhythm, pistons of eagerness and nerves. A rainbow of balloons bobbed through the picture window, scouts for sugar highs and squeals. Molly’s gloved fingers traced a crack in the window’s seal, coaxing an eager grin. She tapped Bill’s shoulder and motioned toward a gap in the swinging gate. Tiptoes and swift motions were the order of the night. She lifted a socket set, he flexed nimble digits. The world smelled of frosting and spilled punch. Their eyes darted between twinkling lights and garish streamers. With synchronized breath they prepared to swoop in and cart away loot meant for pint sized party pirates. A rogue present slipped free and tinkled against the sill. No alarms. Only the distant giggle of a clowning parent. Inhaling courage they braced for the sprint. "Are you sure we can pull this off?" he froze then grinned. "I scoped the place thoroughly." Molly raised an eyebrow. "Grab the biggest gifts first." Bill checked his watch and nodded. "Two minutes." They slipped toward the porch, adrenaline surging, ready for the heist of childhood now.