"That's the way the cookie crumbles," said Doctor Odd's mother.
"Why?" asked the Child Odd.
He was eight. Young, but still the sapling that would grow into the mad scientist the world would fear.
"I don't know," said his mother.
From that point on, Doctor Odd begged for cookies - demanded them.
Mother Odd gladly provided, watching her son meticulously test each batch, suggest adjustments to the recipe, and come up with various cookie-crumbling techniques.
On hear deathbed, Mother Odd asked her son what he'd discovered from all this research.
Doctor Odd smiled and patted her hand. "I prefer brownies."