Molly adjusted her night vision goggles. "You're telling me that the Henderson kid has a PlayStation 5, three iPads, and an actual pony in there?" "That's what my cousin's neighbor said," Bill replied, consulting his crumpled list. "Little Timmy's parents are influencers. They rented a bouncy castle with a VIP section and a champagne fountain for the adults." "VIP section at a six-year-old's party. Society's crumbling, Bill." "Faster if we get that pony." They crouched behind the Subaru. Molly checked her watch. "What's our entry vector?" "Front door. We'll blend right in." "As what? The caterers? The clown's backup dancers?" "Better." Bill produced two wrinkled dinosaur suits from his bag. "Jurassic Park style." Molly stared at the green fabric. "We're forty years old, Bill." "Adults wear costumes to kids' parties now. It's called immersive parenting. I read it in a magazine at the dentist." "Fine. But we're taking the presents, not the fondant cake." "Obviously. We have standards. We steal from children, but we're not monsters." They squeezed into the suits. Molly flailed her tiny T-Rex arms. "These are completely useless for heisting. I can't grip a Wii controller, let alone a pony lead." "Adapt and overcome," Bill said, his tail dragging on the asphalt. "Wait, security situation?" "Birthday mom at eleven o'clock. She's holding a phone and what appears to be her third margarita." "Distraction protocol?" "I'll deploy the piñata gambit. Full candy scatter. And remember, avoid the clown. He looks like he knows karate." "Noted. Why dinosaurs anyway?" "Raptors test well with focus groups ages five to seven. Plus the tail hides the crowbar. Now move." Bill burst through the door, arms flailing. "Oh no! I'm a lost dinosaur! Has anyone seen my prehistoric herd? I'm so confused and also hungry for birthday cake! Is that gluten-free?" The mother squinted. "Are you Gary from accounting?" "Roar!" Bill yelled, knocking over a carefully arranged artisanal cheese board. Molly slipped past, tripping over a minefield of Legos, and crashed into the present pile. "Gravity! The Mesozoic era had different physics!" A child in a Spider-Man shirt approached. "Are you here to surprise Timmy?" "Yes. Surprise. I'm taking these gifts to the dinosaur cave for cleaning. It's an ancient tradition. Very spiritual. VIP only." "Cool! Can I come?" "Next time, kid. Maybe bring the pony." Bill joined her, dragging a tablecloth loaded with boxes. "Did you get the pony?" "It's a rental, Bill. We can't steal a rental. That's unethical." "Right. Ethics. How many iPads?" "Three. And a Smart Watch for the golden retriever." "Rich people." "Tell me about it." "Should we return the dog watch?" "Are you kidding? It's engraved." Sirens wailed in the distance. "Is that for us?" Bill asked. "No, that's just the ice cream truck. Move your tail before the sugar rush hits and they mob us for cones!" They waddled desperately to the van. Inside the getaway vehicle, Bill panted, shedding his hood. "Next time, we hit a wedding. Less Legos, more champagne." "More open bar," Molly agreed, counting iPads. "But the T-Rex arms were a nice touch. Very limiting." "Professional courtesy. Now drive before the FacePainters Union shows up with their brushes."