As I get home from work, my wife greets me with what looks like a leftover, partly eaten Cobb salad . . .
“We went to IHOP,” she says, “and we got this for you.”
“Oh, thanks,” I say. “Thanks for thinking of me.”
Later in the evening I catch up with my son and ask him what he had to eat at IHOP.
“I had a steak omelet and pancakes,” he says.
“That sounds really good. I wanted to thank you for treating me to the half-eaten Cobb salad.”
“Mom said you’d like that,” he says. “And that was pretty much a whole Cobb salad.”
“It looked partly eaten to me.”
“The bacon was partly eaten.”
“That’s the best part of the salad.”