Molly: "Are you sure the cake distraction really will work?" Bill: "Absolutely, it's ridiculous enough to derail everyone's sugar shock." Molly: "Alright then, what's our entry strategy into clown-festooned living?" Bill: "We rappel through the chimney wearing Santa hats, naturally." Molly: "Kids might yell when Santa looks very suspiciously shifty." Bill: "Then we glide to the gift table, silent shadows." Molly: "What about escaping without tripping over those helium balloons?" Bill: "I have extra-grip sneakers, courtesy of black market cobbler." Molly: "Brilliant. What about the elegant birthday theme's surveillance cameras?" Bill: "We loop the feed with prerecorded hamster video, foolproof." Molly: "After grabbing gifts, we join cake-eating contest for cover." Bill: "Excellent. No one suspects adorable thieves wearing frosting-splattered masks." Molly: "What about gifts hidden under colorful tissue paper elsewhere?" Bill: "We'll stash them in the duffel disguised as piñata." Molly: "Pleasure stealing these gifts feels oddly like holiday philanthropy." Bill: "Exactly— we're giving kids a surprise they'll never suspect." Molly: "Let's sync watches, begin operation Present Pilfer in three." Bill: "Roger that. Time to become stealthy ghosts of night." Molly: "Afterward, we celebrate with leftover cupcakes and party hats." Bill: "Here's hoping the clown doesn't tutor us in juggling." Molly: "No clown, no tripped wires, just swiped gifts away." Bill: "Stay close, Molly, and remember the witnesses might scream." Molly: "I've got earmuffs, including us, to muffle any shouts." Bill: "Affirmative. This is the quirkiest theft mission we've planned." Molly: "Ready, Bill? Let's make these children forget Christmas happened." Molly peered through the front window at the riot of pastel balloons and rainbow streamers plastered over every surface. She nudged Bill, who balanced on tiptoe in an oversized Santa mask. The house thrummed with shrieks of delight as tiny party guests paraded around with paper crowns. Presents littered a low coffee table like glittering treasures in a dragon’s hoard. A chocolate fountain gurgled in the corner, beckoning confectionery daredevils. Outside, a gentle snowfall dusted the lawn, turning footprints into ghostly whispers toward the porch. Bill produced a spool of red velvet rope, nodding as he clipped it to her belt. They shared a conspiratorial grin beneath the glow of porch lanterns shaped like jolly reindeer. With synchronized precision, they removed rubber gloves from a velvet pouch. Molly checked the time on a wristwatch that ticked out an ominously cheerful carol. The back door, slightly ajar, offered an invitation too tempting to resist: a silent keyhole emitting the warm scent of vanilla cupcakes. She ducked through the opening and found herself on the fringe of chaos and candy. Bill followed, landing lightly behind her and whispering an enthusiastic thumbs-up. Above, party music swelled with a familiar jingle that set toes tapping uncontrollably. They paused amid a whirlwind of wrapping paper and confetti, heartbeats matching the turning of a spinning prize wheel. In the hush between demands for more ice cream and cries of “pin the tail,” they became invisible ciphers, plotting a daring seasonal caper that even Santa might envy.