I was reading a story to my son tonight. It started off with a sad tale of a poor little lamb with a bum leg. No one wanted to hang with him, no one wanted him to come on their strolls through the rolling green hills... his only friend was a cow named Abi. Of course, Abi was an encourager, always letting our little lamb know that he was indeed special, and gosh darn-it, the shepard's liked him! One day the flock heads off for some hills and tells old three legged bah-bah that he's gotta stay behind.
Well well. I knew where this one was going. Those lambs were off to slaughter, and our young protagonist was going to be redeemed. All those jeers and hoof jokes and those suckers were marching off to their deaths now. Talk about satisfaction. You see, had he not had a bum leg, he would have made the journey to either take a spike in the brain, or a knife to his throat. But instead, our little man was saved from the slaughter! What a great story I thought, a good moral for the boy to learn.
Turns out, the sheep weren't going to slaughter just on a walk like the dude said, and little bah-bum-boy ended up using his little fur coat to keep baby Jesus warm. Man, how anti-climatic is that.