Molly crouched behind the pastel-painted fence, adjusting her black beanie while colorful balloons bobbed mockingly overhead. The sound of children's laughter drifted across the backyard like a siren song of profit. "This feels wrong," Bill whispered, his voice cracking like a teenage boy asking someone to prom. He clutched a suspicious-looking birthday gift wrapped in yesterday's newspaper. "Wrong? Bill, we're professional thieves. Everything we do is technically wrong." "But they're kids, Molly. Look at them. They're so... innocent." Molly peered through a gap in the fence slats. A gaggle of seven-year-olds ran around wearing princess costumes and superhero capes, their faces painted with butterflies and lightning bolts. The present table groaned under the weight of elaborate packages wrapped in shiny paper. "Innocent and loaded. Do you see the size of some of those boxes?" "What if one of them contains a teddy bear? I can't steal a child's teddy bear, Molly. I have standards." "Your standards didn't stop you from robbing that ice cream truck last month." "That was different! The driver was mean. He refused to play Turkey in the Straw." A clown appeared in the yard, honking his red nose and making balloon animals with theatrical flair. Bill jumped backward, nearly tumbling into a rose bush. "I hate clowns," he muttered, straightening his lucky crime sweater. "They're unnatural. Why do their shoes have to be so big?" "Focus, Bill. We wait for cake time. When they're all distracted by sugar and singing, we make our move." "What's our exit strategy?" "Same as always. We run very fast in opposite directions and meet at the diner." The birthday girl, a pint-sized tornado in a pink tutu, started opening presents with the enthusiasm of a tornado hitting a trailer park. Each rip of wrapping paper made Bill flinch visibly. "She seems so happy, Molly. Look at her little face." "I see dollar signs dancing in her little face." A mother emerged from the house carrying an enormous chocolate cake shaped like a unicorn, complete with a shimmering horn and rainbow mane. The children squealed with delight and rushed toward the picnic table like tiny vultures. "Now's our chance," Molly hissed, pulling on latex gloves with practiced efficiency. "Wait. What if we get caught? What if we traumatize them forever? What if they develop trust issues and grow up to become criminals like us?" "Bill, you're overthinking this." "But what if we create a generation of juvenile delinquents? What if we single-handedly destroy society as we know it?" Molly grabbed his shoulders and stared into his worried brown eyes. "Then we'll have job security. Now come on before they finish singing Happy Birthday." She vaulted over the fence with surprising grace for someone wearing steel-toed boots.