Willa is improving - they've dialed back her oxygen and she's perking up a lot. My son called me this evening and reported that she's almost back to her old self, clapping her hands and smiling and mimicking what her parents do, and she's eating. She's also coughing up all the gunk that was clogging her bronchial passages, so I'm guessing she won't be released tomorrow. They want her breathing normally, coughing less, and off oxygen for hours before they'll cut her loose, but she's definitely on the mend. I suspect that tomorrow will be the rough day, when she's feeling better and restless and still tethered to tubes in her nose. I told him to recruit other grandma to get them a chilled bottle of champagne and a couple of plastic flutes, because it looks like NYE will be spend on the pediatric floor, but it looks like it will be a real celebration.
I'll be spending NYE down in BFE, in a hardhat and steel toed boots, and I'm very happy to get out from behind my desk and spreadsheets and monitors. Cross your fingers that I'm home at a reasonable hour, because I have plans - one of my oldest friends is also a neighbor. We are a couple of old ladies who like our sleep. I texted her the other day and asked if she had any plans for NYE, because I'd wimped out on happy hour a week ago, and she of course laughed and said no, so I invited her over. We are going to start the party at 7, probably open the champagne at 9, call it a night at 10, and she'll be home and asleep by 10:15. If she walks over, Sophie and I can walk her home and kill two birds with one stone, achieving the last potty of the night, so I can sleep in on Friday. We'll party like it's 1899.