Run: 2026-02-17-01KHNF6XJKK9XXRD8YYX2C95PM

Molly leaned against the fence, her eyesscanning the brightly colored balloons and streamers. Bill adjusted his glasses, peering through binoculars. "Okay, Molly. This is the target. The Johnson's backyard. Birthday party. Eight o'clock sharp. We hit the presents table." Molly grinned, a sharp, knowing smile. "The presents table. Classic. Kids' parties are like candy stores for thieves. All that shiny wrapping, just begging to be... liberated." Bill sighed, a sound heavy with exasperation. "Molly, it's not just about the wrapping. It's the *children*. They're unpredictable. They scream. They cry. They might trip over our feet. Or worse, they might *see* us." "Bill, they're toddlers," Molly pointed out, her voice dripping with patience. "They're more likely to be fascinated by our cool heist gear than try to stop us. 'Look, Mommy! A man in a mask stealing the Lego spaceship!' They'll think it's a game." Bill adjusted his glasses again, his voice rising slightly. "A game? Molly, you can't just waltz in there and start stuffing stuffed animals into a duffel bag while a three-year-old tries to 'help' by handing you their half-eaten cupcake! What about the parents? They're armed with cameras and... parental authority!" Molly shrugged, unfazed. "Parental authority? Please. We're professionals. We move fast, we move quiet. We blend in. We're just another group of... enthusiastic party guests. Maybe we bring a cake? Everyone loves cake." Bill shook his head, a rare flicker of a smile touching his lips. "Cake? Molly, that's not a disguise, that's a liability. What if the cake is gluten-free? What if it's vegan? What if... what if it's *actually* the cake we're supposed to steal? No, the plan is simple. We observe tonight. Identify the most valuable-looking presents. Target those. Avoid the toddler zones. Avoid the parents. Avoid making eye contact with the clown. He looks shifty." Molly chuckled, the sound low and warm. "Shifty clown? Bill, you're impossible. Fine. Observation. But we move at midnight. When the parents are all passed out on the lawn chairs, and the kids are... well, passed out. The presents table will be unguarded. We grab the big ones, the ones with the expensive-looking tags. Easy peasy." Bill frowned, his brow furrowed in deep thought. "Midnight? Molly, that's when the *parents* are most alert. They're up checking on the kids. They're the ones who'll notice the empty space where the Wii U was. We need a distraction. Something loud. Something... chaotic." Molly's eyes lit up with mischief. "Perfect! We bring the chaos. We set off the party poppers. We make a huge noise. Everyone looks away from the presents table. We grab the loot and vanish into the night. It's foolproof!" Bill stared at her, his expression a mixture of horror and reluctant admiration. "You want to *start* the chaos? Molly, you're the chaos! You'll set off the poppers, trip over the piñata, and land face-first in the cake. We'll be caught before we can say 'happy birthday!'" Molly stuck out her tongue. "Then I'll be the distraction. You sneak in, grab the loot, and I'll... I'll be the loud, clumsy one. It's a classic diversion tactic. Works in movies all the time." Bill rubbed his temples, the weight of the world—or at least the weight of planning a heist at a children's party—bearing down on him. "Molly, this is ridiculous. We're going to get caught. We're going to get arrested. We're going to get sued for traumatizing a generation of toddlers. This is the worst plan I've ever heard." Molly grinned, her eyes sparkling with excitement. "Worst plan? Bill, it's brilliant! It's audacious! It's... it's *heist comedy gold*. Now, are you in, or are you going to stand there looking like a worried parent while the presents get away?"