Molly crouched behind the garden gnome, smoothing the wrinkles in her black jumpsuit. Strings of colorful balloons bobbed in the wind like unsuspecting beacons. Bill stood by the front walkway, struggling with a coil of rope and a tape measure, looking more like a confused party decorator than a hardened thief. "There's a piñata in there the size of a bowling ball," Bill whispered, eyeing the window. "Good. We'll use it as cover," Molly replied, tapping the glass. "Kids will bat at it, we slip through the side door." Bill sighed. "Side door leads to the kitchen—heist cliché number one, right?" Molly flashed a grin. "Exactly." They slid through the hedges. The house smelled of frosting and fresh laundry. A laughter track of sugar-high shrieks echoed from the living room. "Stay sharp," Molly reminded him. Bill adjusted his beanie. "I got cherries for distraction." He held up a handful of bright red balloons. "Cherries?" she asked. "Call them cherry grenades." He tossed one into the koi pond. It floated away, turning the water ominously scarlet. "Impressive. Now what's the plan for the actual loot?" "Birthday hats," Bill said. "We swap ours for theirs, slip the gifts into these party bags." He brandished two purple sacks. Molly checked her stolen watch. "We have exactly seven minutes before the cake arrives." Muffled singing from inside grew louder. Bill glanced at the window. "They started 'Happy Birthday'? Now's our chance." Molly pressed her ear to the glass. "Nine kids, two parents, one magician. His rabbit will be in a hat. We replace the rabbit with a sock puppet." "Sock puppet magic—new high art." Bill chuckled. Molly leaned back into the shadows. "Remember, we leave no evidence—except maybe a trail of jellybeans." Bill winked. "Kids love jellybeans." The two thieves exchanged a nod, ready to transform a child's birthday party into the perfect comedic caper. Molly tiptoed across the threshold, maneuvering around a rogue toy car. Confetti cascaded through her hair as Bill balanced on the couch arm, eyeing a mountain of gifts piled like a winter snowdrift. Molly whispered, "Look at that tinsel avalanche hanging off the fireplace. We can swing across like circus acrobats and land right on the gift table." Bill raised an eyebrow. "Circus acrobats? You planning a heist or an off-Broadway show?" Molly hissed, "Both. I'm a triple threat." Bill grinned. "Focus: thirty seconds to liftoff. You take the left flank; I'll handle the right." Molly nodded. "Roger that. Watch out for rogue cupcakes—they're more treacherous than they look." A shrill squeak from the base of the stairs made them freeze. Bill stifled a laugh. "It sounded like a Martian landing. That squeaker toy could blow our cover." Molly hissed, "You've got the layout code, right?" Bill patted his inside pocket. "I also have a miniflashlight, a half-eaten sandwich, and two safety pins." Molly rolled her eyes. "Amateur hour. Where's the thermal suppressor?" Bill shrugged. "Sticky note?" Molly seized Bill’s sleeve. "After we stash the packages, we high-tail it to the getaway van before cleanup crew arrives." Heart pounding, they shared one final nod before diving into their extraction. Bill vaulted over the armrest, Molly right behind, and they slipped between sugar-smeared chairs toward the exit. Toddlers, balloons, cake—nothing could derail their perfect getaway.