Blue.

Like it or not, it’s already clear that blue may very well be the defining color of 2020. I mean, we’re *only* 1/6th of the way through the year, and we’ve already seen:

a) Pantone [bafflingly] name “Classic Blue” as their color of the year,

b) Cap’n Crunch drip liquefied Na’vi slime onto our pancakes,

c) Cereal blogger Dan G. succumb and be reborn by the Midwest winter blues, and

d) I’ve tried to scream the idea of La Croix kegs into existence until I’m blue in the face. La Craigs, people!!

Now, Fred and Barney are bringing a touch of Brontosaurian blue to modern breakfasts, too, with Magic Fruity Pebbles—a cereal that sells itself on the concept of turning milk blue, which is admittedly so not-innovative by this point that it feels anachronistically appropriate for this prehistoric pair.

But are these pinkened Pebbles’ gimmick still worth gulping down? I’m willing to die my intestines a peculiar shade of azure in order to answer that.

Well, if there’s one thing I can say about these Fruity Pebbles, it’s that they’re certainly Fruity Pebbles.

For better or worse, these taste exactly like normal Fruity Pebbles. Since they never promised to be anything more than that, Magic Fruity Pebbles really can’t be faulted for not going beyond its cult-classic tropical smoothie of fake fruitiness. Of all the fruity cereals out there, the nuanced taste of Pebbles is perhaps the toughest to describe. Existing at the ambiguous intersection of Froot Loops and Trix, Fruity Pebbles (whether magical or pedestrian) presents an all-you-can-eat candied fruit salad that’s usually snarfed down too fast to strain any real-fruit analogies out of its flavor formula. After all, Pebbles are among the least dense of all mainstream cereals—a big reason why they’re not my favorite; I end up sucking them down like a gravel-gobbling demigod to the point of intestinal acupuncture—so to nitpick the chew-by-chew taste would be like policing comma use in the Declaration of Independence.

Therefore, anyone who’s eaten Fruity Pebbles before is probably a better judge of whether they’d enjoy Magic Fruity Pebbles than I am. Because while I may not be the biggest Pebbles fan in terms of flavor to mass to volume ratios, I have to give Magic Fruity Pebbles high aesthetic accolades. The hot pink box is a surefire stunner—vivid enough to leave a Pepto-Bismol exec’s stomach quivering out of jealousy. Likewise, the little shards of rose quartz that constitute Magic Fruity Pebbles are cute enough to string onto a charm bracelet, right between a bunch of those letter blocks that read JUST YABBA DABBA DOO IT.

Just imagine I have the wrists of a swole stegosaurus.

Oh, and while I may have subtly shaded Magic Fruity Pebbles for retreading the familiar chromatic ground of blue milk, they sure do a great job of it.

Of all the blue-milk cereals I’ve experienced in my lifetime—and boy have we all been blessed to live through this Sapphire Era—Magic Fruity Pebbles produces the most fitting tribute to a certain Mr. Roy G.’s surname. Looking more like Boo Berry ectoplasm than anything the ghost himself could conjure up, Magic Fruity Pebbles milk is purely pleasing to look at—especially when you get up close to see those subtle blue blossoms bloom out of pink Pebbles that hitherto gave no sign of any illusory indigo contained within.

Overall, Magic Fruity Pebbles are just Fruity Pebbles in stage makeup—but hey, that’s not at all a bad thing. In this day and age of outlandish cereal ideas, sometimes a new coat of paint on a familiar favorite provides enough fresh-faced dopamine to get you through the day, morning, or midnight snack.

Now if Post could only make turquoise Cocoa Pebbles that turn your milk into orange juice, that would be a whole different ball game.

The Bowl: Magic Fruity Pebbles

The Breakdown: Simply Fruity Pebbles with a flamboyant flair, Magic Fruity Pebbles is sure to charm children and inner children alike with its ride-or-dye approach to thorough dairy transformation. Just be sure you come into the experience expecting a magic trick, not a miracle.

The Bottom Line: 7.5 tie-dyed cows out of 10