I was watching the game in my home last Saturday (a luxury for me since most of Denver could care less about the Pac-10 and instead prefers watching Broncos highlights year-round...which, having grown up in a college city, I find extremely annoying) with Mason on my lap (another luxury, since the kid will usually only sit still for Backyardigans and Star Wars), and we were having the following conversation:
"Daddy, is that Ona?" (pronounced "owe-na," which is Mason-lingo for "Arizona")
I proudly recognize that I've taught him well since he can recognize Arizona apparel without being able to read. "Yep. Go Cats!"
"Who is the blue team?"
"Those are the bad guys."
"Why they bad? They like to hurt people?"
"Well, no..............but Arizona's the good guys, so the Bruins are the bad guys."
"Oh............................................Daddy, what's a Bruin?"
"It's a bear."
"Oh. Are bears bad?"
"Well...............uh............yeah, sometimes. They like to hurt people."
"Oh."
Mason runs off. Which is about right, since he had been sitting still for over 5 minutes. A minute later he returns with two of his toys and sits them down in front of me without saying a word.

That's my boy.