A faint glow from party lights spilled through the window, painting the living room in pastel ribbons. Molly crouched behind a potted fern, clutching a feathered mask. Bill leaned against the wall, adjusting his tiny black gloves with exaggerated swiftness. Outside, laughter drifted through the door. The gift table, piled with brightly wrapped boxes, beckoned like treasure in a hidden cave. Molly: "We slip in just as the clown passes the pinata. One wrong move and we’ll be juggling more than kids’ sugar highs." Bill: "Relax, I have the schedule memorized. Cupcake time is our narrow window. After frosting, no kid can spot two thieves in matching masks." Molly: "Where’s the decoy route? I don’t relish sneaking behind soggy streamers." Bill: "Through the laundry chute disguised as a game tunnel. They’ll think it’s part of the obstacle course." In the hallway behind a painted plastic arch, a single balloon bobbed against the ceiling. The smell of vanilla and helium clung to the air like a secret. A stereo played a warped version of a nursery rhyme, turning innocent words into a slightly sinister beat. Molly peered through the doorway, spotting children chasing runaway party hats and parents glued to smartphone screens. The guard dog, a tiny dachshund in a tuxedo, snoozed at the foot of the table. Molly: "That clatter was just a balloon toy, right? We can’t let downstairs parents investigate a rogue thief knocking over their precious heirloom." Bill: "Parents are glued to filming every yawp. They won’t notice two shadows slipping behind the gift display unless we trip over the dog’s tail." Molly: "Cupcakes serve as our smoke bomb. Once sugared chaos erupts, we dart to the table, scoop up bows and slip into the service door." Footsteps echoed faintly as they studied the map scribbled on a party hat. Each ribbon marker pinpointed an entry and exit, with the greatest bounty grouped by the chocolate fountain. Molly tightened the mask strap beneath her hair. Bill tapped his boot, calculating the distance to the stack of presents. A timer ticked softly in his coat pocket, each beat a promise of rushed glory. Bill: "I’ll disable the alarm by substituting the cake topper with a false circuit—a skill I perfected last Tuesday during that little cat fundraiser misadventure." Molly: "Once the lights flicker, our exit path through the laundry chute is clear. We just hope no one craves a moist hug rug tonight." Bill: "You and I know moist rugs trigger parental panic faster than missing cake. I’ll hand out bribes if a tantrum explodes—sugary candies always work." They crept toward the arch, hearts pounding. A misplaced present slid from the table’s edge and clattered against a hard floor. Silence swallowed the noise instantly. Bill froze, eyes wide. Molly signaled to keep moving. The unwrapped surprise beckoned them forward like an irresistible dare. Molly: "Got the loot ready? Bag is wrapped for camouflage. Once we hit the chute we’ll slip through Aunt Linda’s tent to the getaway limo."