Molly crouched behind the inflatable bouncy castle, adjusting her black ski mask for the third time in two minutes. The thing kept sliding down over her eyes, which made reconnaissance rather challenging. Through the window of the suburban home, she could see dozens of wrapped packages piled beneath colorful streamers and balloons. "This feels morally questionable," Bill whispered, army-crawling through the flower bed with all the stealth of a rhinoceros in tap shoes. Dirt clung to his mustache, and his own ski mask sat askew, giving him the appearance of a confused bank robber who'd taken a wrong turn at Albuquerque. "Since when do you have morals?" Molly hissed back, watching as tiny pirates and princesses ran squealing across the backyard. "Remember the orphanage job?" "That was different. Those weren't actual orphans, they were tax attorneys on a retreat." A particularly loud shriek erupted from inside the house, followed by what sounded like a small explosion. Molly peered through the window again. Someone appeared to have knocked over the punch bowl, creating a sticky pink tsunami across the hardwood floors. "Perfect distraction," she muttered, then turned to Bill. "You create a diversion out here while I slip through the back door." "What kind of diversion?" "I don't know, improvise. Do magic tricks or something." Bill's eyes widened behind his crooked mask. "I don't know any magic tricks." "Then make balloon animals." "With what balloons?" The sound of approaching footsteps made them both freeze. A woman in a flour-dusted apron stepped onto the back patio, scanning the yard with the weary expression of someone who'd been refereeing sugar-fueled chaos for the past two hours. "Has anyone seen Mr. Whiskers?" she called out to the assembled children. Several small voices began shouting conflicting reports about the whereabouts of what Molly assumed was either a cat or a hamster. The woman sighed and returned inside. "Who's Mr. Whiskers?" Bill whispered. "Focus, Bill. We need those presents." "Why can't we just rob a bank like normal people?" Molly shot him a withering look. "Because banks have security guards and alarm systems. This is a six-year-old's birthday party. What's the worst that could happen?" As if summoned by her words, a small voice piped up from directly behind them. "Mommy, there are weird people in our bushes." Both thieves turned slowly to find a tiny girl in a princess costume staring at them with the unblinking intensity of someone who'd consumed their body weight in cake frosting. She held a half-deflated balloon in one hand and what appeared to be a juice box in the other. "We're the entertainment," Molly said weakly. The little girl tilted her head. "You're not very good at hiding." Bill started to remove his mask. "You know what? Maybe we should reconsider our life choices."