Many years after that day, when Captain Nicholas Scott Wentworth carried countless scars from a decade’s worth of battles against a rogue band of pirate dinosaurs, he would shrug off the ministrations of his crew and feign indifference to the latest injury to temporarily hobble him. Some said he was just like his father, a stoic man of great dignity and honor who, according to legend, walked uphill in the snow both ways to minister the sick, all while passing a kidney stone. Dignity, honor…blatant stubbornness and stupidity…it was all a matter of opinion if you asked his mother, Mrs. Wentworth, which the Captain preferred you did not.
Of course, that was many years later. Because on that day? July 21, 2010? There was only a little boy with a boo-boo, a band-aid, and a head so inflated with male bravado that his knobby knees could barely withstand the weight to keep him upright. But somehow those little drumsticks managed, and Mrs. Wentworth proceeded to take pictures of the owie under the watchful command of (the future) Captain Nicholas Scott Wentworth.