The TVs are all broken

Or at least this is what we've told the boys. We started this about two months ago, and we were initially very successful. In fact, on our first attempt, we went nine days without the TV on in the house at all. Impressive, huh? But then, one rainy day, we figured, "Hey, we're in the clear. The boys no longer NEED to watch TV, so we can let the boys watch one show, right?" The next day, it was two shows. And then it was a movie, then it was two movies, and voila, back to pure addiction. Then they were "broken" again for a while, and then I got sick and needed the kind of assistance that only Diego and the Backyardigans could provide. So, magically, the TV was fixed. Then, after a couple of days we broke it again. And the cycle continued. (An experience that interestingly paralleled our attempts to quit smoking.) Until last week, when I was exhausted and overwhelmed by my to-do lists to prepare for our visitors, I launched a full-fledged Nick, Jr. marathon. We (because by Thursday, Matt was a willing accomplice) continued that way through the weekend.

And now here we are on Monday morning, and the TVs are busted again (this time we got to blame it on the crazy storms that blew through last night). When the boys woke up this morning, suffice it to say that Noah was disappointed. But he's recovered and, 4 and half hours later, is contentedly playing trains.

When Luke woke up, we got his milk and he headed into the family room to assume his position on the couch. When he figured out that I wasn't going to be turning on the TV (with Noah saying, "I know Lukey, it's terrible. The TV is broken again."), he lost it. His feelings about this tragedy simply cannot be described with mere words. Blood-curdling screams come closer. A fit of pure rage is more like it. I attempted to distract him with a collaborative smoothie-making breakfast. Then we went to get haircuts. Then we went on a nature walk on the greenway, and then ran a couple of errands. But none of this really took him away from the subject of TV (the fact that the van has a dvd player, which was also "broken," didn't help). And then we had to come home. And as I type this, he is standing in front of the TV in the playroom, having gathered every remote in the house, and is desperately trying to make one of them reunite him with his beloved Diego.

Why does the TV also get broken on Monday mornings when daddy goes back to work?