While it does snow in North Carolina, accumulation can be rare and quick at best.

Saturday me and the boys went to the local middle school to toss the football around and try our hand, er legs, at kicking field goals. My oldest son has played soccer for years and has got a cannon for a left leg. He loves football a lot and spent a season at quarterback before submitting to being on a year-round, traveling soccer team.

But he still yearns for the pigskin.

He had overheard a conversation I had on the phone with my brother about a certain six-degree-of-separation story that involved someone who played in the NFL.

That guy’s position? Not a very glorious one: he wasn’t the quarterback, the running back, a safety or even the punter.

He was the long snapper.

I had to explain to him the importance of this position and that like kickers and punters, the long snapper’s importance is often overlooked until he fucks up. All it takes is one bad snap. Okay maybe two. And then you are done.

Knowing he’s not going to be the size of Ray Lewis or Tom Brady, my son has decided to work on being a place kicker. He’s only 10. I figure if his soccer leg stays strong, he’ll be able to make varsity as a freshman with that leg (if his soccer coach let’s him!).

So there the three of us were on a hard, dusty middle school football field taking turns holding the football for each other to kick.

And then it started to flurry. Then the flurries turned into a blizzard. Okay I use that term loosely but this is North Carolina we are talking about. School has been known to be canceled at just the threat of snow. The snow soon had us shivering and we retreated to the safety of home. From there we continued to gaze out the window at the snow falling. By the time dusk came, two inches covered the ground so we ventured out into it. It was the perfect snowball snow and a raging three-way fight erupted. At some point in the midst of it all I took the time to make a quick snowman for my boys.

We raged in the evening’s winter wonderland, got cold, took showers, settled into a movie and eventually drifted off to sleep. Our Sunday traditional of hitting up the skate park was nipped in the bud not just by the cold, but by the simple fact that the early morning sunshine had cause the snow to melt and made the cement wet.

My youngest son, as we headed to the car to run an errand, said, “Guys let’s check on Frosty.”

And with that we walked down to the grass where he stood the night before.

He had toppled over and was in mid-melt.

“And now, a moment of silence for Frosty…” he said bowing his head.

We joined him in his silence.

Sometimes I wonder where this shit comes from…