“Are you sure about this, Molly?” “Bill, for the tenth time, yes! A bouncy castle, a clown, and enough sugar to power a small nation of toddlers. It’s perfect!” “But… a children's party? We steal jewellery, priceless artifacts, the occasional moderately inconvenienced cat. Not… not Barbies.” “Think bigger, Bill. We’re not stealing Barbies. We’re stealing the *presents*. The ones with the crisp twenty-dollar bills tucked inside from generous grandparents, the gift cards to the fancy toy stores, the occasional illicit bottle of wine disguised as a LEGO set.” “Wine? At a kid’s party?” “You’d be surprised. Aunt Carol gets thirsty. Look, the intel is solid. The parents are loaded. Little Timmy’s turning six, and they’ve rented out the entire community hall. The security? Two teenagers dressed as SpongeBob and Patrick, probably more interested in their phones than a couple of resourceful adults.” “Resourceful adults who are about to commit grand larceny against a group of six-year-olds.” “Details, Bill, details! Think of it as… redirecting resources. Timmy has enough robots. He needs to learn about the economy of gift-giving. Now, did you remember the diversionary glitter bombs?” “Always, Molly. But I still feel a bit… sticky about this.” “Relax, Bill. It’s for the kids. In a roundabout kind of way.”