Bill adjusted the suction cup attached to his tactical goggles, which was already wobbling dangerously near his eyebrow. The living room smelled of artificial butter and the desperate denial of a three-year-old, the perfect blind for their operation. Molly stared intently at the hallway floorplan she’d scrawled on a greasy napkin, highlighting a specific section near the fussy fern where the good presents usually went. "Target is green," Bill whispered, holding up a device that looked suspiciously like a lollipop on a stick with a pulsing red LED. "We have the window." "Go," Molly hissed, smoothing the front of her sweatpants. Bill crouched low, slipping the diaper bag onto his shoulder. He checked his inventory: rubber band cutters, three rolls of duct tape, and a hamster wheel meant to distract the puppy. "I'm targeting the cash registers first. Then the expensive toys." "Just get in there," she said, shoving him gently toward the open window.