Molly adjusted her fake mustache in the rearview mirror, watching streamers flutter from the suburban house across the street. The birthday banner proclaimed "Happy 6th Birthday Emma!" in glittering letters that seemed to mock their entire operation. Bill studied the floor plan he'd sketched on a napkin. The presents would be stacked in the living room, right next to the cake table. Easy access through the sliding door, assuming nobody noticed two adults army-crawling past the bounce house. "We go in at piñata time," Molly said. "Perfect. Maximum chaos." The afternoon sun beat down on their van as children shrieked in the backyard. Molly's stomach growled. She'd skipped lunch for this job, though stealing from a kindergartener's birthday party hadn't exactly been her career goal when she'd dropped out of art school. Bill pulled two wrapped boxes from the back seat, their cover story if caught. Just confused party guests, wrong house, terribly sorry. Molly watched a clown juggle near the pool. This was definitely her lowest point. Lower than the hamster heist. Lower than the botanical garden incident. She sighed deeply, contemplating her choices.