Run: 2026-02-17-01KHNFHH5VPDJRRMHNTT3PXD2J

Molly leaned against the wall, hereyes wide with excitement, scanning the brightly colored decorations. "Bill, look at this place! It's like a candy store exploded!" She gestured wildly at the sea of balloons and streamers. "All those presents under the tree? They're practically begging to be... borrowed." Bill adjusted his glasses, his expression serious despite the ridiculousness. "Borrowed? Molly, we're talking about a kindergarten graduation party. The security detail is a three-year-old with a juice box and a temper tantrum." Molly grinned, bouncing slightly. "Exactly! No high-tech alarms, no laser grids. Just a bunch of sugar-fueled toddlers who think a piñata is a weapon of mass destruction." She pointed at the tree. "See those wrapped boxes? They're not even locked up. Just sitting there, waiting for someone with a bigger bag." Bill sighed, rubbing his temples. "The 'waiting for someone' part is key, Molly. Those presents are guarded by the most relentless security force known to man: a horde of sticky-fingered, sugar-high preschoolers. One of them spots us, and we're not just caught, we're adopted." Molly's eyes sparkled with mischief. "That's the beauty of it! We blend in. We're just another parent... or a slightly confused uncle... or a very tall, very nervous clown." She mimed a clumsy bow. "We waltz in, grab the loot, and waltz out. Easy peasy lemon squeezy." Bill shook his head, but a reluctant smile tugged at his lips. "And how, exactly, do we waltz out with a sack full of Lego sets and Barbie dolls while being chased by a mob of mini-despots demanding their 'giftedness'?" Molly's grin widened. "Distraction! Classic misdirection. You create a diversion, I make the grab. Simple." "Simple?" Bill scoffed. "You want me to distract a room full of toddlers? How? Do I start reciting Shakespeare? 'To steal or not to steal, that is the question!' They'd just think I'm weird and throw their sippy cups at me." Molly clapped her hands together. "Perfect! That's the distraction! They'll be so busy trying to figure out why the grown-up is talking funny that they won't notice the sack disappearing under the tree. You're a natural, Bill!" Bill stared at her, the absurdity of the plan hitting him fully. "Molly, this is insane. We're going to break into a children's party, steal toys, and get away with it because we're going to confuse the kids with bad poetry? That's the plan?" Molly nodded vigorously. "That's the plan! Now, how do we get in without setting off the 'parental radar'? The front door's probably guarded by a mom with a clipboard and a death glare." Bill scanned the yard. "The back door. It's unlocked. According to Mrs. Henderson's Facebook post, she forgot to lock it after the last delivery. Perfect." Molly's eyes lit up. "Perfect! And once we're in, we hit the tree. Fast and clean. No time for chit-chat with Elmo." Bill rubbed his chin, the gears turning despite himself. "Okay, okay. Plan: sneak in through the unlocked back door. Distract the children with... bad poetry. Grab the presents. Escape before the parents realize their kids are missing and start screaming. Sounds foolproof." Molly beamed. "Exactly! Now, let's go make some kids' dreams come true... and steal them first." She started towards the back door, already imagining the sack bulging with loot. Bill followed, muttering about the sheer lunacy of it all, but the gleam in his eye betrayed a flicker of reluctant enthusiasm. The heist of the century, or at least the most ridiculous one, was about to begin.