What kind of title is that? Well, it's what passes for a joke in these parts.
You see it all began innocently enough. The princesses and I were playing the game where one of us would say three words to start a story. Then the next one of us says the next three words and so on and so forth until we are laughing so hard something snaps. LuLu recently started the story with "The Hobo was...." and somewhere along the line this story took a very, very dark turn. Eventually the Hobo was eaten along with ketchup and corn (and a nice Chianti and Fa-va beans.....).
Funny? You bet.
The problem (besides the cost of therapy these children will need later) is that now we can instantly crack our whole little team up if we just mention a Hobo...and ketchup and corn. And if one of us yells "Hobo" on the streets of Chicago the other three of us become incapacitated with laughter (sooooo inappropriate). At some point one of these "hobos" is going to hear us and we will all be impaled on a shopping cart (it will make the news people).
As the mother of these hooligans it's disturbing that they find the term "hobo" so entertaining. And that they are further entertained by the thought of eating one of these "hobos" (is that the plural of hobo? or is it hobai?) is the funniest thing they've ever heard.