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Sunday, December 24, 1989

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Calvin and Hobbes are lying on the floor, by the Christmas tree and the fireplace. There is a poem about Christmas Eve. It reads the tree is decorated festively, Christmas songs play on the radio, his tiger is fast asleep, he turns to warm whatever's not hot. He gives his friend a gentle hug. Tomorrow is what he's waiting for, but he can wait a little more.

Transcript

Christmas Eve On Window panes, the icy frost leaves feathered patterns, crissed & crossed, but in our house, the Christmas tree is decorated festively with tiny dots of colored light that cozy up this winter night. Christmas songs, familiar, slow, play softly on the radio. Pops and hisses from the fire whistle with the bells and choir. My tiger is now fast asleep on his back and dreaming deep. When the fire makes him hot, he turns to warm whatever's not. Propped against him on the rug, I give my friend agentle hug. Tomorrow's what I'm waiting for, but I can wait a little more.

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