Chapter 13

13 GOOD MORNING, EINSTEIN," SAYS GRAMPA AL, POURING FRANK some cornflakes. Frank plops down in the kitchen chair and yawns but still cracks a smile and answers, "Good morning, Einstein." "Cornflakes!" says Watson, already there and ready to go, as loud and awake as Frank is

not. He holds a single cornflake up to the light. "This is what I am going to invent next." Frank chews his mouthful of cereal. Sleepily. Slowly. "I think they've already been invented." "No, I mean something like cornflakes. Something that is such a good idea that it seems like it's always been around. Did you know they were invented by accident?" "No," says Frank. "But why do I have a feeling you're going to tell me anyway?" "It's 1894," says Watson, ignoring Frank. "The Kellogg brothers are making some dough to squeeze through rollers and flatten out. But then they both have to leave the room for some reason. I'm not sure why. Maybe their mom is calling them. No... wait. They were grown-up guys by then. I guess it's not part of the story—" "Which is why you should probably leave it

out," says Frank. "Right," says Watson. "Forget that part. So they have to leave the room. They come back. And guess what? The dough is all dried out. They don't want to waste it, though, so they run it through the rollers anyway." "OK, now this is getting really exciting," teases Frank. "But when they run the dry dough through the rollers, it breaks into flakes! They are delicious. Everyone loves them. And now they've been around for more than a hundred years." "Which just might happen with Watson's Universal-Strength Peanut Butter Bubble Gum," says Grampa Al. He checks his full- scale model of the first atomic clock on the kitchen wall. "Speaking of which—we'd better get you boys over to City Hall so you can get set up.

Big day today." The thought of today's Science Prize, and the Antimatter Motor Fly Bike—what it could mean for Grampa Al, what it could mean for science—wakes Frank up in an instant. But— Rrrrarrrrrr rings the Dimetrodon. Frank answers. "Hey, Mom. Hey, Dad." Bob and Mary Einstein, still in their orange parkas, appear on the Dimetrodon screen. "Hi, darling. We can't talk long. There is something happening down here with that orange zone you mentioned." "It's the ozone, honey," says Bob. "Right. The O zone. Seems like it's got a hole in it." "Yeah, there's a bad thing going on with CFCs..." Frank begins to explain patiently. "Yes, but anyway. We just wanted to call and wish you luck at your science fair today."

"Aw, thanks, Mom. I'm hoping to win the big prize. Remember the trophy Grampa won when he was a kid?" "Did you do that model of a volcano with flour and seltzer like I did when I was your age?" asks Bob. "That's a classic." "Not exactly," says Frank. "It's baking soda and vinegar. And they do react in a pretty neat multistep reaction to form carbonic acid... NaHCO3 + HC2H3O2 NaC2H3O2 + H2CO3"... which decomposes into water and bubbles of carbon dioxide... H2CO3 H2O + CO2"... but actually, I finally figured out how

to power my old flying-bike invention. With a real Antimatter Motor I made with Watson and my robot pals." The picture link fuzzes for a split second. "What?" says Mary. "We didn't hear all of that. But it's wonderful that you are riding bikes with your friends." "We are heading home tomorrow," says Bob. "See you in a couple days!" "Love you, sweetie." "Love you guys. Bye." Frank turns to Grampa Al. "You let your own kid make a volcano model?" Grampa Al smiles and shrugs. "He loved it. And it made a very nice imitation-lava flow. Now come on. Pack up your Fly Bike and Peanut Butter Bubble Gum, and let's blow this pop stand." "Blow this pop stand" is another one of those mysterious Grampa Al sayings, where