Molly pressed her face against the chain-link fence, watching a gaggle of seven-year-olds demolish a purple dinosaur piñata with frightening efficiency. The birthday boy, wearing a lopsided crown and chocolate ice cream on both cheeks, shrieked with delight as candy scattered across the lawn. "That's our target," Molly whispered, gesturing toward the massive pile of wrapped presents stacked on a picnic table near the garage. Bill squinted through his binoculars. "You've got to be kidding me. We're robbing children now?" "We're not robbing children. We're liberating merchandise from an unsecured location." "That's definitely robbing children." Molly pulled out a worn notebook covered in coffee stains and sketched a crude map of the backyard. The layout was simple enough: house on the left, garage on the right, and approximately fifteen sugar-addled kids running chaotic interference patterns between them. A inflatable bounce house dominated the center of the yard, currently occupied by at least nine bouncing bodies. "The parents are distracted," Molly said, tapping her pen against the paper. "Classic tactical advantage." Bill lowered his binoculars and stared at her. "I cannot believe I'm saying this, but what's the actual plan here?" "You create a diversion. I grab the presents. We're in and out in ninety seconds." "What kind of diversion?" Molly grinned and reached into her duffel bag, producing a second purple dinosaur piñata. "We hang this beauty in the tree by the street. Kids see it, kids run toward it, parents follow kids, and boom. Clear path to the loot." Bill had to admit the logic was sound, even if the entire operation felt like a new low in their already questionable career trajectory. Last month they'd stolen a shipment of orthopedic shoes. The month before that, seventeen cases of sugar-free energy drinks. Their reputation in the criminal underworld had gone from "daring" to "pathetic" with alarming speed. "Fine," Bill said. "But I'm going on record as saying this is stupid." "Noted and ignored." They circled around to the front of the house, moving with the practiced stealth of professionals who'd recently downgraded to amateur status. Bill shimmied up the tree with the piñata while Molly kept watch. A minivan pulled up, disgorging another child clutching a shiny gift bag. "Hurry up," Molly hissed. Bill secured the piñata to a branch just as the first kid spotted it. The effect was instantaneous and beautiful. A tidal wave of children surged toward the street, parents scrambling after them in panic. Molly sprinted toward the backyard, her sneakers silent on the grass. The present table stood unguarded, a glorious treasure trove of LEGO sets and action figures. She grabbed the entire tablecloth and bundled everything together like the world's worst Santa Claus. Bill appeared beside her, breathing hard. "Go, go, go!" They ran.