Molly pressed her face against the fence, peering through a knothole at the chaos beyond. Balloons bobbed in the breeze. A piñata shaped like a unicorn swayed ominously from an oak tree. Children shrieked with sugar-fueled abandon. What am I doing with my life, she wondered. Bill crouched beside her, adjusting his unnecessarily elaborate mustache disguise. The thing looked like a deceased caterpillar had taken up residence on his upper lip. You really think this is our best option? Bill nodded enthusiastically, his fake mustache sliding slightly to the left. The birthday girl's parents are loaded. Those presents are probably worth thousands. Plus, I heard they ordered that new HyperDrone 5000. That thing retails for eight hundred bucks. Molly sighed and checked her watch. The party had been raging for forty-five minutes. In her experience, that meant the parents would be sufficiently distracted by the impending cake ceremony. She'd planned seventeen heists in her career, each more successful than the last. None had involved stealing from children. Her partner stood and brushed grass from his knees. He'd insisted on wearing what he called their infiltration outfits, which consisted of painfully bright Hawaiian shirts and cargo shorts. According to Bill's logic, they'd blend right in as quirky uncles. Remember the plan? Bill recited it like a bored student. I create a distraction with the backup piñata. You slip around through the garage. Grab the present table haul. We meet at the extraction point behind the tool shed. The backup piñata sat in their van, stuffed not with candy but with live crickets. Bill had been unreasonably proud of that particular innovation. Molly scaled the fence with practiced ease, landing softly in a flower bed. Bill followed with significantly less grace, toppling into a hydrangea bush. A nearby toddler watched them with suspicious eyes while gnawing on a juice box. They separated, moving through the yard with what Bill probably thought was stealth. Molly watched him lumber toward the piñata, cricket-filled backup clutched under one arm. The man moved like a bear in board shorts. She slipped through the open garage door. Beyond it lay the kitchen, and through the kitchen window, she spotted the glorious present table. It practically sparkled in the afternoon sun. Gift wrap in every color imaginable, bows the size of dinner plates, bags overflowing with tissue paper. The sound of shattering cricket-piñata reached her ears. Children screamed. Parents shouted. Someone yelled about locusts, which seemed dramatic. Molly darted forward, grabbed the loaded wagon Bill had positioned earlier, and started loading presents with the efficiency of a seasoned professional. Within ninety seconds, she had everything. She wheeled her haul toward the tool shed. Bill appeared moments later, covered in glitter and what appeared to be frosting. Mission accomplished? Mission accomplished. Now let's get out of here before someone calls the cops. They ran.