Molly cracked her knuckles. "So we're really doing this?" "Absolutely. Kids' parties are goldmines. Nobody expects it." "Bill, they're five-year-olds." "Exactly! Their parents buy expensive stuff. iPads, designer clothes, those creepy robot dogs." "What if we get caught?" "By who? A clown?" "There's always parents supervising." "Not during cake time. Everyone crowds around the birthday boy. That's our window." "How long do we have?" "Three minutes, maybe four if the candles don't light." "And we just grab everything?" "Everything. Wrapping paper and all." "What about thank-you cards? How will little Timmy know who gave him what?" "Little Joshua, actually. And that's his problem." "You're terrible." "I'm practical. You in or out?" "What's my cut?" "Sixty-forty." "Fifty-fifty or I walk." "Fine. Fifty-fifty." "When do we move?" "Saturday. Two o'clock. Jungle theme." "Should we wear camouflage?" "Molly, it's a metaphorical jungle." "Right. Obviously." "Bring the big duffel bags." "Got it. This is insane." "This is genius."