Night settled over the quiet suburban cul-de-sac. Bill adjusted his neon-green bandana, the remnant of a failed rave, over his eyes. Molly checked her gloved fingers, making sure her lock picks were snug. A lone streetlamp flickered. Molly whispered, "Everything ready?" Bill grinned. "As ready as I'll ever be for a room full of toddlers." Molly tapped the blueprint printed on a napkin. "Party inside has at least thirty gift-wrapped boxes. If we slip in, snag the loot, and vanish before the birthday cake hits sugar high, we hit paydirt." Bill rubbed his chin. "Kids drool on the softest plush toys. We need a solid exit route." Molly nodded. "Ventilation duct above the snack table. We drop in, snatch the pile, then climb back." Bill cleared his throat. "You sure we can haul that much loot? Last week I could barely carry three sweaters off Mrs. Crabapple’s yard sale." Molly rolled her eyes. "That's amateur hour. Tonight we’re pros. I have a wheeled cart disguised as a pinata." Bill’s eyebrows shot up. "A glittery horse pinata? We were supposed to be ninjas, not glitter samurai." Molly crossed her arms. "Kids' defenses go down around sugar and sparkles. They’ll be too busy screaming for candy to notice a rogue donkey granting them pinata rights." Bill chuckled. "True. Plus I saw you decked out in sequins. I'm worried you'll get distracted dancing." Molly smirked. "Distraction is part of the plan. You stick to the shadows. I’ll be the glitter bomb." Bill took a deep breath. "Alright. Let's go through the schedule." Molly glanced at her watch. "Cake cutting at eight forty-five. Presents open around nine. We have a ten-minute window." Bill whispered, "Less time than average microwave popcorn. We’ll need speed." Molly leaned close. "I handle locks. You handle crowd control. If a toddler toddles your way, deploy the stealth tickle technique." Bill gulped. "Tickle technique? I've heard of deadly force but tickling is new territory." Molly grinned. "Works every time. They giggle and collapse. We move in, grab the goods, and out." Bill shook his head. "This is insane. Why not rob a bank? At least they don't have screaming sugar monsters." Molly shrugged. "Too much paperwork. Plus bank vaults have alarms. Birthday parties only have one guard: the sticky-faced girl who might recognize me from Lego club." Bill smirked. "I have her number. She owes me five candy canes from last Christmas. We’re golden." Molly pocketed her picks. "Alright. On my signal, we infiltrate. Remember, stay frosty and keep the glitter away from the sprinklers." Bill raised an eyebrow. "Sprinklers?" Molly winked. "Trust me, chaos is our ally." They exchanged one last nod and slipped across the lawn, silhouettes against a window glowing with pastel balloons and the distant sound of children singing. Bill muttered, "Hope they serve punch. My throat is parched from whispering." Molly laughed, "Focus, Bill. We'll be legends in the sticky annals of toddler lore." They silently crept into the living room, shadows dancing on boxes.