Like many ’90s kids, I lusted after the panoply of colorful, sugary cereals that were marketed to us in a never-ending parade of cartoon mascots, box-top sweepstakes, and jingles so catchy that, to this day, I remember them more vividly than anything I learned in graduate school. But my mom wasn’t keen on me starting my days with enough sugar to induce a diabetic coma. In our house, both the desperate rabbit and the kids would have been called “silly” for thinking a bowl of Trix constituted a meal.
As an adult, I’ve tried to embrace the wholesome charms of oatmeal, chia seeds, and bran-based cereal, whose primary selling point is its power to induce regular bowel movements. Alas, my true love remains a piping-cold bowl of violently sweet breakfast-in-a-box.
Enter Trader Joe’s Tiny Fruity Cuties. Call it a moment of weakness. Call it an attempt at a middle ground between the hedonist pleasures of General Mills and the bland virtues of Bob’s Red Mill. Just don’t call it a comeback.