That's it. Our TV (heretofore known as "baby #1") has given up the ghost. It is no more. It has ceased to be. And I can't help but feel Morgan had something to do with it. Mostly because he had something to do with it.
It's not like we loved baby #1 more than he. He spent time watching the Wiggles and other kids shows on it. Even as a brand new baby, he seemed interested in things like Food Network. When he got older and learned to "use" the remote, (meaning point it at the tv and push a lot of buttons,) he showed a preference for the Spanish channel. I thought "great, baby #1 is teaching Morgan a new language! It's fun and educational!" But all that time with the remote and tv, Morgan was just researching its eventual demise.
It's been dying for months. The line of static at the top has been getting lower and lower. It's taken longer and longer for it to turn on, it doesn't shift through channels, but it still worked.
I don't know exactly how he did it, but Morgan broke our tv. One day it was working fine, the next day: nothing. I tried everything, even unplugged it and plugged it back in a few times.
The good news is we now need to buy a new tv. The bad news is we have to buy a new tv. To tv #1: so long, old friend. We had some good times, we had some bad times. I promise to buy a large, flatscreen hi-def replacement to ease the loss of your glowing goodness.
I'm glad that baby #2 (hereafter known as "Morgan") was the one that came out the victor in that deathmatch. He's cuter, I feel less guilty spending my time watching him, and I've spent more time and money on him.