At what point does food in your refrigerator become public domain?

There is an ongoing issue in my house whereby certain members of our family are very reluctant to leave their personal leftovers in the refrigerator, for fear that other members of the family to whom those leftovers do not belong will consume them.

To be fair here, I should mention that the first group consists mainly of my daughters, while the second group comprises mainly my son Jared and occasionally me.

Or at least it used to comprise me. I don't eat other people's refrigerator food anymore. But I used to.

Well, I didn't "eat" it in the sense of "entirely consume" it. But I would take a few bites. Sometimes more than a few bites. All while perfectly aware that the food was not mine to be eating.

This is theft. You can try and dress it up, but in the end, it's theft. It's taking something that belongs to someone else for yourself.

For whatever reason, it took some time before I came to this realization. But now that I'm aware of what I was doing, I don't do it any more.

The same cannot be said for Jared. Jared is a food thief, pure and simple.

I think he's better than he used to be, but my girls are right to be wary of Jared's food-stealing tendencies. If they bring home a styrofoam container of Olive Garden leftovers, for example, there's no doubt that Jared will target those leftovers for personal consumption.

At least now he asks. But his "asking" is more like he's building a legal case. "This food has been in the refrigerator for three days," he'll say. "That means you don't want it. Can I have it?"

And when the food owner in question refuses his request, he will ask again. And again. And again. All in the hopes that his annoying persistence will eventually wear the person down and she will relent.

Which I suppose raises an important question of international household food law: Is there a point at which untouched leftovers, even those that are clearly marked with someone's name, have been neglected for so long that they should be made available to whomever wants them on a first-come, first-served basis?

Most people would probably argue that, no, there is no such statute of limitations. My food is mine now and will still be mine five days from now.

But Jared is one to explore the boundaries of household food rules and regulations. He wants that food. He craves that food, no matter what it is. And if he can get away with having that food, with or without your permission, he's going to take it.

I claim no responsibility for his inevitable death, which will come at the hands of one of his sisters whose Applebee's chicken parm has been raided once too often. When I find Jared lying dead in front of the refrigerator with a plastic fork jammed into the side of his head, I'll know exactly why.