Moonlight glimmered on the vinyl fence panels as Molly and Bill crouched behind a dusty potted shrub. They shared a quick glance, eyes gleaming with mischief and just a hint of nerves. A string of colorful lights looped around the porch railing, illuminating a banner that read HAPPY FOURTH BIRTHDAY. Beyond the screen door, sounds of laughter and squeals drifted out on a warm summer breeze. The thieves adjusted their gloves and checked their belts for tiny grappling hooks and snack grenades—two vital tools for this very unusual heist. Bill leaned in and tapped Molly’s shoulder, curiosity lighting his dark eyes. He asked, "Did you pack the glitter bombs or leave them behind?" Her eyebrow lifted as she grinned back at him. Molly responded eagerly, "Glitter bombs are in my bag, next to the party hats." Bill exhaled a relieved chuckle. Bill murmured, "Great. Nothing screams stealth like a cloud of sequins." Molly rolled her eyes but kept a smirk. She sighed, "Focus. We only have twenty minutes before the cake cutting." Bill tapped his watch again, looking around for the host. Bill whispered, "I still can’t believe we’re breaking into a kindergarten." The distant wail of a squeaky toy reminded them of their absurd mission. Molly shot him a grin. "Desperate times call for desperate measures, my friend." He nodded solemnly. Bill smirked. "What about the llamas? I thought this was a pony party." Molly waved her hand dismissively. She shook her head. "I mixed them up. It’s llama-themed this time." Bill scratched his chin. He exhaled. "Fine. I’ll handle the llama noise generator switch." Sparks of excitement danced in his eyes. Molly hissed. "Keep it quiet. We can’t spook the guests." A distant pop of a balloon reminded them of tight schedules. Bill tilted his head. "Got it. And the ninja squirrels?" Molly tapped her boot. She whispered conspiratorially. "They’re disguised as piñata hangers. Top security." Bill nodded appreciatively. Bill frowned in concentration. "Brilliant. Then we snag the gifts and vanish?" Molly rubbed her hands together. She whispered urgently. "Exactly. Quick and clean, no one notices until dawn." A ragged owl hoot signaled they were running short on time. Bill cracked his knuckles. "To the nursery, then. Operation Present Swiper is a go!" They slipped through the door crack, heels whispering secrets on the hardwood floor. Molly paused. "I’m thirsty." Bill cracked open a miniature soda can he’d stashed in his coat. Bill grinned. "Don’t worry, I smuggled brownies in my sock." He handed her a warm square, his eyes dancing. Molly’s grin grew wide. "Perfect. Let’s make some magic and some mess." They crept past a row of tiny chairs arranged in a semicircle around a pastel birthday cake set in the center of a table. Each gift sat unguarded under a polka dot tablecloth, promising sweet pay dirt. Molly peeked at the sleeping guests, clutching balloons like heavy pearls. Bill surveyed the loot: stuffed animals, board games, and a massive box promising a deluxe art set.