Let’s Eat Grandma
When Grammar Goes Rogue
This is the story of how one missing comma turned dinner into a crime scene — and a few missing punctuation marks nearly ended my career.
It began with an innocent group chat message: “Can’t wait to eat Grandma!”
The family group exploded in horror. My cousin texted, “Are we seriously eating Grandma?” My uncle replied, “I’m calling the police.” Turns out, what I meant was: “Can’t wait to eat, Grandma!” But without the comma, the poor woman was suddenly dinner.
Trying to fix it, I sent, “Sorry. Grandma let’s eat.” No comma again. Now it sounded like Grandma was a hostage. By then, Aunt Karen was texting me memes about cannibalism.
At work, I emailed: “Let’s discuss John and Sarah.” Cue panic. John and Sarah thought they were on the chopping block. Their inboxes filled with frantic replies like “What did I do?!” and “Are we getting fired?” I followed up: “I meant, let’s discuss, John, and Sarah.” This only made things worse — now they were wondering who else I was leaving out.
Then, during the afternoon Zoom, I said, “I honestly love cooking my family and my dog.” Everyone got quiet. I meant: “I love cooking, my family, and my dog,” but the commas were AWOL. One teammate quietly unmuted and said, “I’m bringing a salad next time.”
Later, I texted: “I am so hungry. We should eat kids.” A reply came instantly: “You’ve gone too far.” I tried to save it with: “We should eat, kids,” but none could undo the damage. Moms called me.
Dinner finally came. While serving dessert, I announced: “Let’s eat Grandmas, cake, and ice cream.” Grandma raised an eyebrow like she wasn’t sure if she was the dessert or the chef. Correction: Let’s eat Grandma’s cake…
Then a dog, who wasn’t mine, waltzed in and wagged it’s tail — wait, scratch that — its tail. But who’s checking spelling when the drama is unfolding?
Then, a man walked in and I said: “The dogs’ owner is here.” Everyone looked around like a pack of wild dogs was about to burst through the walls. What I meant was: “The dog’s owner is here.” Singular. One dog. One man. Not a canine uprising.
After our dinner, I thanked everyone: “Thanks Mom, Dad, Grandma, Neighbor and God.” The neighbor looked confused, wondering if I thought he and God were one entity. The Oxford comma saved the day: “Thanks, Mom, Dad, Grandma, Neighbor, and God.”
By dawn, I was banned from group chats, office emails, and family dinners. All because I didn’t know how to use proper punctuation.
Lesson learned: grammar isn’t optional. It’s survival.