So, about "the gorilla dance"

A few posts ago, Merrie mentioned something Sean does which I call "the gorilla dance." It's generally happened when Sean is lying on his back (for example, on the changing table), looking up at me with a rather intent gaze under his very small furrowed brows. I'm not sure how much he gives Merrie this look, but I see it occasionally, and it's surprisingly serious for a kid who's usually so sweet and playful.

The tenor of the look is reinforced by the steadiness of his stare, in part a reflection of the fact that babies blink far less often than adults (about twice a minute), and so his eye contact is direct and demanding. "Look at me," it says.

Then, once he's established eye contact, there's a flicker of a scowl, or maybe the eyebrows just go down another millimeter, and his arms start to move. They start at his sides, straight, and his shoulders go up and down (yes, Sean already has more and better rhythm than I do). His arms come out a bit, perhaps a few inches away from his sides, but staying straight as they swing back and forth, glancing off his hips as he keeps staring up at me, without blinking. And that gaze just gets more serious and more intense as I watch.

The first time I noticed and told Merrie, she came over to see what I was talking about. "Look," I said. "He's doing a little gorilla dance!"

She looked him over, not quite as spellbound as I was. "Yeah," she said. "Put some clothes on him; he's cold."

* * *

I've also noticed him doing it when he's not cold, occasionally, since then.