Finally, after decades of alpha-male tigers, geriatric cinnamon-toast bakers and the fiery testosterone of the sky’s giant Raisin Bran-loving plasma ball, we’re getting a cereal mascot who’s a strong female role mod—aw wait…she’s only half human, isn’t she? Do we really want the world’s daughters looking up to someone who craps in the ocean?

Sorry fishladies, didn’t mean to slander you. I’m sure there are plenty of sophisticated mermaidens out there who use seafoam bidets, and you’re all way classier than those treacherous sirens. All I wanted to do was hear them cover Chocolate Rain, but I did not stay dry and I certainly felt the pain.

Oceanic etiquette aside, I find the food world’s mermaid trend intriguing. It seems these Ms. Thological creatures have eclipsed unicorns as young kids’ cryptids of fixation, as mermaids are apparently popular enough to warrant two cereals, from two different companies, released at roughly the same time in two different hemispheres. While General Mills was kind enough to hook me up with several (several) boxes worth of their new Mermaid Cereal, the Aussies of the Yeah, G’Day! podcast were kind enough to send me Kellogg’s Mermaid Froot Loops from the land down-underwater.

So which continent will emerge as king queen of breakfast’s aquamarina? Let’s dive in.

General Mills Mermaid Cereal

Though its palette brings to mind something you wouldn’t want in our oceans—Nickelodeon Green Slime and its associated cereal—this Americanized Mermaid Cereal really just tastes like a classic General Mills Cereal: Trix, albeit a much more tamely sweetened one.

Though Mermaid Cereal is clearly aimed towards kids, I find that cereals like this appeal to me more as I get older, as their tasteful toning down of a familiar flavor helps my brain better pace itself when inevitably stress-shoveling dry cereal with the grace of a grazing cow, while also pacing my digestive system so it doesn’t feel like sugar-splintering into four smaller stomachs. In this case, both colored pieces in Mermaid Cereal strike a pleasant citrus balance between sweet lime and tangy lemon—though the overall whirlpool of fruity flavors makes it hard to pick out any individual strain of fruit sensation.

Simply put, Mermaid Cereal succeeds where FunkO’s and Caticorn Cereal failed. Both those cereals tried to imitate famous fruit cereal flavors, but in crude, respectively chemically and oversweetened ways. Mermaid Cereal merely turns down the granular punchiness, while providing smaller pieces that give each spoonful a richer population density, especially when its stars and fish swim in milk—creating a mashed-up ecosystem that’s safer for sensitive palettes than the pronounced corrugation of several Trix fruit shapes.

Speaking of shapes, would it’ve killed General Mills to make the fish pieces orange? If Pepperidge Farm won’t remember to put out a Goldfish Cereal, I want to at least pretend.

Mermaid Cereal may not blow anyone’s mind out of the water, but I’d say it makes for a surprisingly kid-friendly cereal that’s worth a try even for adults who get gut-rot from overly sugary fare. If you’re afraid of exposing your children to a certain marine celebrity whose very existence encourages eating beachgoers from a young age, let Mariana the Named-By-Me Mermaid raise them on something that’s fathomable for the whole family.

The Bottom Line: 7.5 forthcoming Mer-Cat (Murr-Cat?) Cereals out of 10

Kellogg’s Australian Mermaid Froot Loops

Though these Mermaid Froot Loops may have one of the highest odometer scores of any cereal I’ve reviewed, there’s unfortunately far less to say about this purple silhouetted dame of the deep than her American cousin. Why? Because they just kinda taste like Froot Loops.

The mind can conjure up powerful things—heck, Toucan Sam had us convinced each color tasted different for a while—but my ‘buds are having trouble finding any nautical nuances here that you can’t find in a bona fide bowl of kaleidoscopically artificial American Froot Loops. Since Mermaid Froot Loops, like Froot Loops in most non-Western countries, use natural colorings, these Mer-Mardi Gras-hued Loops are a bit duller aesthetically, without the twinkling sugar sheen on stateside Loops that’s bright enough to drag even the dimmest moth away from an aisle of Home Depot lighting fixtures.

So if you live in Australia and love Froot Loops, why not give Mermaid Froot Loops a shot? You lose nothing but fridge-top real estate—because if there’s one superlative I can confidently give Mermaid Froot Loops, it’s “Biggest Box of Cereal I’ve Ever Owned.” Seriously: I’ve had two-box packs of Caticorn Cereal smaller than this sunk-cost treasure chest. It may be unwieldy (and presumably a Herculean labor to ship over international waters), but hey, if I’m ever whipped into a frothy, Froot-hungry frenzy, I won’t even need a bowl…

…I can just plunk my head into its deep-dish trough, ostrich style.

The Bottom Line: 8.5 “It’s Froot Loops. How can I give it a bad grade?”s out of 10

Purely due to the originality x factor, rather than taste (Froot Loops would have won by legacy alone), I have to give the life-preserving title belt to General Mills. Giving Trix its sea legs may not be too creative in its own right, but I think parents and kids alike will be happy with it—even if it’s only for the sweet, sweet moth magnetism of its shiny bevelled box lettering. I am forever thankful to my Australian friends for hooking me up with a functional cereal anchor, but to the folks at Kellogg’s AU, I have to say:

You couldn’t’ve at least given Mermaid Froot Loops a briny sea salt sprinkling?