Stovies

This is about the time I was pregnant with my Layla and, for whatever crazy hormonal reason, I just could not stand the smell of strawberries. Not at all. And it didn’t help that every time Mar came back from preschool, she brought all sorts of smells with her that just made my stomach turn.

Now, Mar always been obsessed with strawberries. Loved them then, loves them still. But back then, because of my pregnancy and my new super-sensitive nose, I just stopped buying them—didn’t even realize I had done it, really. It must’ve been around month two or three of the pregnancy when strawberries vanished from our house.

Here’s where it gets funny. Suddenly, she starts talking about 'stovies.' We had no clue what she meant. She’d just drop the word here and there, completely out of the blue. And we're racking our brains trying to figure out if it's something from English or Spanish, but nope, nothing clicked.

Fast forward to like month seven or eight of my pregnancy. We’re at our friends’ place for lunch, having a good time, catching up. Then, our friend comes out of the kitchen with this big bowl of berries for dessert, strawberries front and center. And I kid you not, my daughter's eyes just light up, and she screams, “STOVIES!!!”

Turns out, 'stovies' was her toddler way of saying strawberries this whole time, and we had no idea! Ignacio and I looked at each other. I don't know what he felt, but I felt the worst parent ever. Stovies were welcomed back in our home after that. So were strawberries. Everyone in our household still loves straweberries.