Wrestlemania

Pertaining to the new kittens:
Around our house, it's wrestlemania 24/7. No wait, actually, it is wrestlemania 13 hours, 10 hours of sleeping, 1 hour of eating or looking for food to steal, and 1 hour of stalking.
With two little boys in the house - a first for us - the wrestling starts as soon as they wake up. They literally roll down the hall, one on top of the other, claws out, one's mouth is clamped around the other's throat, one is either crying or has his fangs sunk into the other's leg. Sometimes Little Man is winning then the tide turns and Angel is on top (and he's a little bigger). Most of the time, I don't get in the middle, but sometimes, Little Man's pitiful cry rips at my heart so I lift Angel off him. At other times, they will be sleeping together so peacefully then one will crack an eye open and pounce on the other unsuspecting kitten. Then it is ON again.
I think this is what it must have been like when Pierre, Paul, and Marc were little boys. I can picture them sitting quietly on the couch, watching a cartoon program. Then one of them pokes the other one. No, actually, I picture one of them punching the other one in the head. Lots of needless violence. And the quiet moment ends and fists are flying, elbows are every where, growls and grunts add to the hubbub. When its over, no one can really remember who started it or why. But at least they've gotten it out of their system for 5 minutes.