Molly crouched behind the garden fence, peering through a knothole at the birthday party chaos. Colorful balloons bobbed in the afternoon breeze while children shrieked with sugar-fueled delight. "This feels wrong, even for us," Bill whispered, adjusting his fake mustache nervously. "Wrong? It's brilliant! Look at that present table – it's like Christmas morning exploded." "We rob banks, Molly. Museums. Not six-year-olds." "Those aren't just any six-year-olds. That's little Timothy Rothschild's party. His pocket money could fund our retirement." Bill squinted at the elaborate bouncy castle shaped like a pirate ship. "How do we even get past the clown security?" "Simple. You create a diversion with balloon animals while I slip around back." "I don't know how to make balloon animals!" "Neither does he, probably. Just twist something vaguely dog-shaped and honk your nose a lot." A child's scream pierced the air as chocolate cake went flying. "See? They're already in chaos mode," Molly grinned, pulling on rainbow suspenders. "I hate your plans," Bill muttered, reluctantly donning oversized polka-dot pants. "You'll thank me when we're rich."