Stop. Kitten time.
Since I get up before leorathesane, early mornings are my special time with Mister Brown. Of course, 6-month-old kittens being 6-month-old kittens, "special time" works mostly like this:
beths_stanley does push-ups
MISTER BROWN: Ooh! You make a tent-shape. Let me walk under it.
beths_stanley does sit-ups
MISTER BROWN: Ooh! Feet! ::pouncepounce::
beths_stanley goes downstairs
MISTER BROWN: You're walking past my food dish without putting anything in it? Allow me to meow loudly and piteously at you, telling the woeful tale of how neglected and underfed I am.
beths_stanley goes to the basement
MISTER BROWN: You're ignoring me for the evil spinning creature that hits me in the head.* I will ignore you to kick litter out of my box.
But a couple of weeks ago, a magical thing happened. Mister Brown wandered around the evil spinning creature that hits him in the head* while I was setting it up and stretching. Before I could sit down, he jumped onto the seat. On a whim I picked him up, settled onto the seat, and put him in my lap, expecting him to jump down instantly. Instead, he curled up and lifted his chin to demand scritching.
"Bike time" has become a daily ritual for Mister Brown and me (no staring at the video, alas). Some days he wants to come up before I ride, but lately he prefers to wait 'til I'm done. He's stayed as little as 1 minute to as long as 10, and everything in between. Bike time is the incontestable highlight of my morning and sometimes the only thing that lures me out of bed. It is a gift. He is a gift. What on Earth did we do without a kitten?
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*Stationary bike. Several painful reminders were necessary before Mister Brown understood that the black things that go in circles cannot change course just because he sticks his head under them.