“Alright, Molly, let's break this down. Operation: Present Plunder. Target: Timothy Henderson's 7th Birthday Bonanza.” Bill thumbed a worn schematic of a suburban house drawn on a napkin. “Timothy Henderson, the kid who still thinks 'cooties' are a valid threat?” Molly scoffed, adjusting her cat-ear headband. “And you’re suggesting we raid a party full of sugared-up toddlers?” “Toddlers, yes. But rich toddlers, Molly. Rich toddlers with even richer parents who buy them suspiciously expensive building blocks and artisanal play-doh. Think of the resale value.” Bill’s eyes gleamed. “We’re not stealing play-doh, Bill. That’s a new low, even for us. Plus, how do we even get in? Do we crash as clowns? I refuse to be a clown again. The last time, your juggling act ended with a stray banana hitting Mrs. Higgins.” “That was a one-time incident! And for the record, she had it coming, talking about her prize-winning petunias for three hours. No, no clowns. Too obvious. We need subtlety. Infiltration. Espionage, even.” Molly snorted. “Espionage? We once tried to steal a statue from a public park and ended up getting chased by a flock of very angry pigeons. Our 'subtlety' usually involves a lot of shouting and at least one explosion.” “Minor explosion. And the pigeons were highly territorial. This time, we go in disguised. Parents. Think about it. Everyone expects new parents at a kids’ party. We’ll be charming, engaged… mildly overwhelmed victims of modern parenthood.” Bill puffed out his chest. Molly stared at him. “You’re suggesting we pretend to be parents? Bill, you once tried to microwave a cold pizza and set off the smoke alarm. I don’t think you're ready for the emotional complexities of childcare role-play.” “I can do it! I’ve watched ‘Parents of the Year’ documentaries. You just… constantly look tired, mention sleep deprivation, and nod empathetically when other parents complain about their kids.” “And which kid are we pretending is ours? We can’t just show up without a prop, Bill. That’s even more suspicious than me wearing these cat ears during a bank heist.” Bill clicked his fingers. “Excellent point, Molly. We need a decoy child. A small, non-descript child. Perhaps one we can… borrow, for the afternoon.” Molly’s jaw dropped. “Borrow a child? Bill, that’s kidnapping! We’re thieves, not… pre-school abductors.” “Just for the party! We return them with a goodie bag. No harm, no foul. Think of it as… temporary custodial relocation for the purposes of illicit acquisition.” “No.” Molly shook her head emphatically. “Absolutely not. If we’re doing this, it’s my way. I’ll go in as the entertainment.” “The entertainment? Molly, your only talent is picking locks and making incredibly convincing animal noises.” “Exactly! I’ll be a… a professional animal impersonator! Every kid loves a good ‘moo’ sound. While I distract them with my barnyard spectacular, you, my ‘charming, mildly overwhelmed’ parental unit, will be in charge of present procurement.” Bill considered this. “A barnyard spectacular… so, no explosions?” Molly grinned. “Only if the kids demand an encore, and even then, just a very small one.” “Fine. But no pigeons. And if anyone asks, my name is Reginald, and my favorite color is ‘the feeling of success’.” Molly sighed. “You’re going to be the death of me, Reginald.” “Only after we’ve secured the goods, Molly. Only after the sweet, sweet scent of newly unwrapped plastic wafts through our nostrils.” He rubbed his hands together. “Operation: Present Plunder, commencing at 14:00 sharp.”