I have a fifteen year old son, who left to his own devices, will consume everything in our refrigerator. He's 5-7, 135 but has the metabolism of a hummingbird.
And he likes leftovers.
My wife and my younger son like to bring leftovers home from a restaurant. And they don't like it when "their" leftovers are eaten before they wake up in the morning or before they've come home from school or work.
Personally, I always seem to order just the right amount, because I never or rarely seem to have any leftovers.
But, whose leftovers are they really?
In my childhood home, leftovers were fair game. I think they were anyway.
The theory (I think) was this:
Anyone could order more than they could eat just so they could have something they want to eat the next day. I distinctly remember ordering two quarter pounders when I was like 10, saving one for the next day, then having my mom tell me I had to share it with my brother. She felt that he could just have easily ordered a sandwich he wasn't going to eat to save for the next day. That he ordered the right amount for his dinner, didn't mean he shouldn't have half a quarter pounder the next day (I guess that would ba an eighth pounder.)
My wife thinks that leftovers belong to the leaver. At least for a day. In other words, you bring home leftovers, you get 24 hours to eat them. After that, they are community leftovers.
That's the way we do things in theory, she is the boss after all, but hungry 15 year old son has the impulse control of a tiger shark and often violates the unwritten rules. This leads to conversations that begin with "Who ate my lasagna? and and with someone's bleeding and me having to take away someone's guitar for a couple of days. Or with something broken.
How do you handle the leftover question? When to "my leftovers" become "anyone's leftovers?"