Benedetto asks, do turtles make good playmates?

My name is Benedetto. Right now I am sitting on my mother's lap, cooing, flailing my legs, staring intently at my feet, chewing on my mother's arm, and still managing to type my first, witty blog entry. My mother has decided that I/we should keep a blog. She's been pretty tired since I was born, but now that she's feeling awake and alert again, she's taking action. She promises to update this blog and not to neglect it as she has done with previous blogs. She also promises not to substitute this blog for personal, direct communication. And I promise to regale you with stories! I intend to become quite a raconteur.
Allow me to introduce myself. I'm the first and only son of two parents who love me dearly. My mother tells me she has been anticipating me and hoping for me for as long as she can remember. She's a medical student and has to return to school soon; she's apprehensive about being away from me. My father works in financial services. He's a pretty chill guy. He's a math genius and a jazz enthusiast and a very good pianist. Oh, and he can cook! People say we look like two iterations of the same person; I take that as a compliment. I'll describe these two nice people in more detail as I get to know them better.

Allow me to explain on my parents' behalf why they named me Benedetto Paciano. (An aside: Mom and Dad made such a big deal out of my name, gushing about how it's so beautiful and so perfect for me and so on and so forth, and now they almost never call me by it. I'm called Little Guy, Little Buddy, Sweet Baby, Sweetington, Honey, My Sweet Boy, and a host of other cutesy names. Funny people, my parents!) Mom and Dad want me to be a gentle, peaceful person, and they named me accordingly. And that's kind of it. I'm not named after anyone in particular, except maybe Pope Benedict.

What else shall I say in my first post? Oh, I know; one of my onesies reads, I like playing with turtles and birds. How perplexing. How does one play with a turtle, anyway? Do they make good playmates?

I'll write more later, and I may ask Mom to "guest blog." Now I have to sit upright on Mom and try mightily to touch my feet. Someday, somewhere, I will grasp my own toes.