Too close to Christmas Day, my 8-year-old grandson Elliott announced he needed help with an invention.

His TAG class at school, (an enrichment effort with children studying everything from mummies to cooking around the world), was having an invention display Christmas week, he said.

We discussed Coke bombs, Elliott's idea to fill plastic bottles with fizzy stuff and shoot it into the air, but I had a mental picture of second grade boys spraying angelic girls with icky goo, making them squeal, so we moved on.

For a long time, Elliott had been pondering a turtle walker, a stroller of sorts for his pet turtle, "Smyrtle." Smyrtle is also 8, a hand-me-down critter from Elliott's cousin, Knox.

Personally, I think Smyrtle has no interest in being pulled in a carrier through the neighborhood, but, then, I didn't believe she would enjoy sunning under an aquarium light, and, sure enough, she splays her shell self over a fake log in her tank and warms up daily.

It's a stretch to move from baking cookies to planning a portable turtle stroller, but there we were, limping into Christmas week, nudged by fanciful ideas from a little boy, who, if he had his druthers, would have a petting zoo in his front yard.

Elliott's grandfather, called Papa, and Elliott's dad rose to the occasion by hearing him out. He needed an apparatus with wheels, a waterproof container for Smyrtle, rocks, a long handle, and a touch of her aquarium home, a small fake tree to decorate his rolling invention.

A square dolly supplied the wheels and Elliott's grandfather attached a clear plastic bin to it, adding eyelets to hold a sturdy rope for him to pull. Elliott spread rocks on the bottom of the bin, set the plastic tree in place and stored a gallon of distilled water, to be added on invention day.

But the logistics of Smyrtle's trip to the school were still a problem. Elliott's idea was to have her happily swimming about as he pulled her rolling carrier around the second grade class room and children bent low to see her.

But Smyrtle is an old turtle, not used to cold weather or small hands feeling her shell. Finally, (though there were tears), Elliott agreed to substitute a turtle shell for his pet, to leave Smyrtle in peace for her morning sunning, and go forth to show off his carrier while explaining turtle habits and species to all who gathered.

But the invention show-and-tell was not meant to be the end of the turtle express. With help, Elliott has drained water from the bin and will wait until sun trumps snow. Then he plans to add fresh water and take Smyrtle for afternoon rides in the neighborhood.

The possibility of dogs, also being walked, has been discussed, and some form of netting will be added to the top of Smyrtle's bin to keep curious canines from checking out a strolling turtle.

This will not be a solitary adventure. Elliott's twin, Denver, has his lightsaber at the ready and will be Elliott's partner and protector of Smyrtle on the walks.

I have no doubt an adult will be required. I've accompanied small girls pushing doll strollers, and a pint-sized boy pulling a wagon piled high with stuffed animals, but a Smyrtle stroll will be my first experience with a live animal propelled on wheels.

Christmas week this terrapin tale trumped decking the halls, but it was worth it to watch Elliott pull his turtle express around his classroom, explaining, though the turtle shell was not the real thing, sometimes, "You have to use your imagination."

So, here's to a new year, when our imaginations shine on in spite of realities staring us down and when finding the real thing can mean holding fast to love or coming upon an aging turtle, out to see the world in a watery bin on wheels, marked on the side: "Smyrtle's Smooth Ride."

Judy Elliott is an award-winning columnist from Marietta.