Zero Hour Zulu --

My name is Tracy. I am in fifth grade and most of my girlfriends are in sixth grade. They are my neighbors. My recent adventure started out as a lark shortly after Valentine's Day. One of my girlfriends from next door, Nadine had gone on a weekend girl's trip to Victoria with her mum and aunt. She had experienced High Tea at the Empress hotel. She treated us by telling us all the details of the whole experience from the time they arrived, to the bringing of three tier platter, to the help pouring tea for her, and to the conversation she had with her mum and her aunt. It was a rich and enchanting story she told us as we waited to catch the bus to school. A girl's afternoon dream time with her mum and aunt. No boys allowed. So overcome was I by her descriptions of high tea that I offered to do a high tea on our outdoor gazebo dressed in my finest. And, so no boy would understand what we were up to, because it was no boys allowed, I promised! I would drop a note to the girls as they left lunch and I came in for lunch at school in our special code saying that high tea was today.

It simply said, "Meet at Zero Hour Zulu." Being eight hours out from Greenwich Mean Time meant I really said four o'clock in the afternoon on the west coast. As time progressed, I would simply write "Meet me at ZHZ." And then finally, "ZHZ." I learned that code from my dad who is a naval officer and keeps referring to Zulu time. Of course, "No Boys Allowed" meant it had to be in code or else the boys on our street would try and interfere with our special girl time.

I pestered my mother for a three tiered sandwich stand which she ordered from Amazon. I went online and learned how to make scones, clotted cream, and finger sandwiches. I made Pâte à Choux with my mum. We did a lot of giggling and hugging too. I would make up vanilla pudding and fill the pastries. Of course, I got to lick the bowl. We had a lot of fun in the kitchen together making the fixing for the tea the night before. So, once a week, I would invite the girls over to have high tea on our gazebo.

I still remember our first high tea. I worked so hard to make it be the best. And it was worth it. It was such a success, thanks, I know, to my awesome mum.

Just before we started, I put on this really pretty dress I found stored in our garage. It was my older sister's dress.

"Honey, that is a lovely dress you're wearing. Are you wearing it for your 'girls only' tea party?"

"Yes, Mummy. I promised Nadine I would dress up for tea party."

She gave me a smirk and asked, "Where have I seen that dress before?"

I twirled in in showing it off. "It was Emily's old dress. It is great for serving our 'No Boys Allowed' high tea, don't you think?"

My mum giggled and said, "Yes, but it needs an apron," and then my she said with air quotes and a goofy grin, "don't you think?" I love my mum.

I laughed so hard it hurt. She disappeared into the garage and came back with this exquisite looking garment. The apron she put on me had this delicate lace border and I am so sure it made me look just like a real server at the Empress Hotel. My mom called it a pinafore and said I looked pretty in it. My mom even took my hair out from my pony tail and put in a pretty red ribbon. Well, after brushing my hair out and talking to me about what she liked to do as a little girl. She said she was so jealous of our real high tea. She said her tea parties used pretend tea when she was growing up. I hugged her and said she could join our high tea. She said politely with a kiss on my cheek and a wink, "No, it is just for you girls."

One by one, the girls showed up and my mum brought them out back to our gazebo where I would show them the table and then seat them. It was a table with a nice paper lace tablecloth. It had flowers from our garden that I carefully cut and put on the table in little vases. It wasn't as nice as a fancy restaurant or the Empress Hotel. But, it was pretty. In the middle was the three tiered serving platter and around it a setting for tea. Each of the girls had a nice dish for their goodies. I had nice silverware and beautiful paper napkins. There were tea cups and saucers. And my Daddy had cleaned up the gazebo and put artificial flowers in the white columns that held up the roof. Even though it was daytime, he put white Christmas lights around the top. On each column, he tied a beautiful ribbon too. Underneath the table, he had a large red carpet. He cleaned the plastic chairs. And, he put in a heater so we would be warm. He thought of everything.

On the table too were two pots of tea. My mum said to bring out the big one would be too much for me to handle my guests. By just after four in the afternoon, all the girls were present and having a great time. I poured tea for Helen and Georgette. Nadine, on the other side of the table, poured tea for Peggy and Shelly. For the next hour, we just chatted and had fun. Soon, they all left and we promised to do it again soon. Nadine said this was every bit as good as the high tea in Victoria. She was so sweet to say that.

Over the next few months, the girls enjoyed my high tea parties and marveled how I was the perfect hostess. They complimented me on my outfits and on what a pretty girl I was. I would blush every time. And, always, boys weren't allowed.

Even my Daddy had to learn that hard lesson one time. He came out one time and approached us.

"Can I join you ladies?" he pleaded.

"No, Daddy. It is for girls only!" The girls nodded in agreement, although they were giggling. I think they wanted him to stay.

He put his hands on his hips and said, "Well, I could wear one of your mom's dresses?"

"Aw, Daddy! Then you would look like a silly boy in a dress. It's for girls only." He pretended to cry, let his shoulders sag, and walked away looking very sad. We all giggled even more. As he went into the house, he looked back at us and we could see the biggest smile on his face. We all knew he was joking. The girls thanked him as they were leaving for the beautiful way he prettied up the gazebo.

But, all good things must come to an end. They were more focused on going to middle school next year and meeting boys now. I felt left out.

We had one final high tea at the end of the school year. We promised we would stay in touch over the summer, we hugged, we cried, but I knew it was a lie that we would have another high tea anytime soon. Our special girl time was over and they were growing up into women. Mum could see how sad I was when they all left that day.

So, after the girls had left, and we cleaned up, my mother sat me down and said she needed to ask me a serious question. She fluffed out my dress and cleaned it up a bit and then re-seated me. She then looked me in the eye for what seemed like the longest time as she thought about what she was going to ask me.

Finally, I said, "Yes, Mummy, what is it?"

"Do you really like being a girl?"

"Oh yes, Mummy. Very much!"

"This is important. Be honest. Do you like being a girl more than being a boy, Tracy?"

"Oh yes. I wish I could be a girl all the time and forever. I hate being a boy." And then, for some reason, I looked her in the eye and proclaimed, "Mum, I am a girl!" Tears flowed down my faces as it hit me that I really was a girl.

She drew me into a tender hug and comforted me saying, "Okay Dear, I have talked it over with your dad. We'll make an appointment with the doctor tomorrow and make it happen."

I love my Mummy and Daddy!

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