I cannot begin to tell you how much fun a kitten is, or can be. Yesterday, I called him Peter Lorre in the "Hunchback of Notre Dame". On the other hand, he loves playing Korean War Games. The other day, he successfully defended the Inchon Resevoir against the entire Chinese Army, complete with trumpets, while they screamed (well, one grunted) "Marine, you die". The cat is fearless, a real Aldo Ray.
The two of them are checking out the back yard, acting normal. This lasts maybe 3 nanoseconds before she smacks him for attacking her. He is in permanent attack mode, with energy to spare. Even she does not intimidate him, although he chooses to count coup, and run like hell. At 16 months, she has mellowed out.
Wiggle worm has initiated an all-out war against my left hand, starting at my left thumb and forefinger. This one has not mastered probability yet. He's a warrior.
After escaping from the dreaded "fist of death", he picked a new target, the other cat's tail. She simply kept moving it out of range, or let him grab it, then pulled it away. Mother cats know more about raising kittens than humans, I think.
After slaughtering all known enemies, and everything around them, the typical warrior cat catches a little shuteye, typically on the recliner in the family room in front of the TV. He will probably like Animal World where he too will learn to drag his prey between his legs. More to come.