Under the dim glow of a streetlamp, Molly crouched behind a row of hedges. She adjusted her skullcap and checked the little blueprint in her gloved hand. Across the lawn, Bill fidgeted beside a gnarled oak, ears straining for party music. The suburban quiet was both comforting and laughably tense. Molly: "Operation Cakewalk begins at seven thirty sharp, you ready?" Bill: "Got my toolkit, smoke bombs, and those magnetic gloves." Molly: "Perfect. Do we swap tags to avoid ID mishaps?" Bill: "Those kids will never guess thieves stole their toys." Molly: "Just avoid the cake table; we don't need fingerprints." Bill: "Okay, grease the side door hinge, slip inside quietly." Molly: "Quiet is good. Don’t let anyone notice missing teddy." Bill: "Scout the cake’s perimeter; sprinklers might surprise us suddenly." Molly: "We need a diversion. Can you rig balloon pop?" Bill: "Consider it done. One squeal is headed upstairs, guaranteed." Molly: "Remember to duck near the gift table for stealth." Bill: "Got it. No footsteps echoing like an elephant again." Molly: "What about the cat? I saw Mr. Whiskers patrolling." Bill: "Worry not; I brought tuna cans. He’ll be snacking." Molly: "Great. Where do we stash forty gift bags quickly?" Bill: "I’ll haul them to the van’s trunk under bins." Molly: "Make sure trunk latch is silent. Sounds ruin reputations." Bill: "Silent latch installed. Time to earn Santa gold medals." Through a basement window, the living room glittered with balloons and giant banners proclaiming "Happy Seventh Birthday!" Rows of wrapped gifts lined a long table, tempting grins gleefully. A DJ’s bass thumped somewhere upstairs. Two excited seven-year-olds practiced sinko de mayo and darted toward a messy pile of syrupy cupcakes. Molly: "Alright, smoke bomb in three, two, one… exhale slowly." Bill: "Now, backflip over the couch. Pretend you’re auditioning Cirque." Molly: "Now sprint past the pinata without knocking it over." Bill: "Got it. Pinata stays upright. Kids will be disappointed." Molly: "Quick, corner of living room. I see blinking-bow teddy." Bill: "On it. I’ll bag that plush with two slices." Molly: "Be careful. That toddler’s karate kicks could skewer us." Bill: "Just butter him up first. Offer some fake cupcakes." Molly: "Good idea. He’ll spin while we collect the loot." Bill: "Move across the banner. Helium weights dragging you down." Molly: "All set. Just one gift remains on the table." Bill: "Take it. I’ll handle extraction at the back stairs." Molly: "I hear footsteps upstairs. Are the parents coming soon?" Bill: "Relax. Their pockets jingle much. We’re safe for now." Molly: "Quick, down the hallway. I spotted toddlers jousting swords." Bill: "Ignore them. Head to the exit. No heroics, remember?" Molly: "Got it. One last sprint through poppers and confetti." Molly’s breath caught as she spotted an adult’s sneaker moving near the doorway. Bill tapped her arm, eyes wide. The heist had just begun. Presents awaited. Fortune smiled in glossy wrapping paper and shiny ribbons. In the moment, two amateur burglars shared a thrill no weekend soccer game could match.