The Witching Hour

Every day, without fail, the boys start to lose it at around five thirty. The madness lasts for a good hour.
Conveniently, Big D is still at work for the brunt of the crazy times. Jam, Mudd, and Baby Wiz start a chorus of whines that manifest into wails.
The boys eat dinner, take baths, and maintain the funkiness without fail every day. I've tried lengthening nap times, bed times, snack times...all to no avail. Nothing I do makes any difference.
The three amigos feed off of each other and I'm just there to watch and pray that nobody gets hurt.
If you're not doing anything tomorrow, whaddya say you swing by my house at about five?
That would be swell.