The weather has snapped cold (and sunny, btw) recently, so we pass a lot of ice on the way to pick up Mr. Pants. Which always reminds her to ask, "Mommy? Did you know about 'ebersible change?" She is surprised that I did.
Mr. P is turning some kind of corner at age 6.5 (a bit precariously at times, but we'll take it) and wants to be helpful by getting up early to make breakfast. The first morning, he found me in bed to tell me that he needed help with the cream cheese, but he'd already cut the bagels and "don't worry, I used a sharp knife but I didn't cut myself. The knife kind of bumped my hand once, but no blood came out."
The next morning he agreed to just pour Cheerios.
The morning after that, I came in to the kitchen to be greeted by the smell of burning. He'd found one last plain bagel in the freezer, he told me, and wanted it. But it was too hard to cut, "so I put it in the microwave, I think for like 3 minutes? like 3 and then two 0's? Like 300?" he wrinkles up his nose as he tries to figure it out, "and then it kind of smelled bad and it was too hot. I think we can still eat it after it cools down, though. But, see?" he pokes the singed rock of a bagel with his knife a couple times and it rattles away from him on the smooth counter. "It's still too hard to cut."
I break the bad news that this is a case of IR-reversible change (thank you Sid!) and it's a good thing there are two mini bagels left, although he really really wanted the big one. "But it kind of looked like it had been in the freezer for too long?" he tells me after calming down, "It looked kind of funny, like with spots."