This summer while on vacation my 14-year-old son made a discovery, which became an obsession for his visiting 14-year-old cousins, and then, his 9-year-old brother: The Pixar Theory and the Easter Eggs. My wife and I are never happy when we see how much time our teenager spends on his phone, but so far it seems most of it is trawling for ideas, theories, bits of information, and gossip that interests him. In one such digital meandering he came upon "Are All Pixar Movies Connected?, which led to "The Pixar Theory," and  later to a full-on car-ride report that sent his (more meticulous) brother to an iPad to follow the trail. Both of these videos explore the theory that the individual Pixar films are part of a carefully interwoven meta-story. While at a glance it might seem impossible that tales of talking clown fish, robots without humans, talking toys, monsters, and witches are actually a massive interrelated time-traveling story, there are those who believe just that and have found clues in the Pixar films to fit their theories. They then parse each new film the way hippies did rock albums for the next revelations. The sites I listed hone in on the clues, the so-called “Easter Eggs” in the individual films that comprise the cookie-crumb trail leading from one clue to the next. As I listened to the boys eagerly sharing and comparing notes, constructing lineages that became timelines, explaining gaps, quoting sources (directors who have been interviewed about this theory), I was thrilled. We couldn't have a better model of inquiry. And so this plan: What if in your library you put up a big piece of paper and asked kids to begin filling in what they know of the Pixar universe theory—calling on research, their own knowledge of the films, or of books or sites related to the works (and new ones as they are released). The diagram of the Pixar Theory calls on what kids and teens know—popular culture. But the process of uncovering evidence, evaluating it, formulating a theory and testing it, and postulating larger meaning (for example, is the Pixar meta-story planned out or is Pixar making it up as it goes along?), is precisely what historians do. So while the step-by-step building of the Pixar map is basically show-how-much-you-know fun, the overall effort is perfect training in the research process. As the map fills in, a teacher can also use it to create another for a unit about the American Revolution, or Civil Rights, or the Middle Ages. The map builds on what students know, adding curiosity, inquiry, connections—everything a historian or researcher does. Maybe your students will make some grand discovery; what lies behind all of this, a mastermind plan at Pixar, or a catch-as-can treasure hunt laid on top of separate films. Once they figure that out, who knows what other mysteries they may want to tackle?