Making a Splash… and Then the Meltdown: Why Leaving Fun Is So Hard for Kids (and Their Parents)

Some mornings start slow in our house, but this one started in molasses time. My son woke up and was not in the mood to get dressed. We are not morning people, never have been, so when I cheerfully announced that we were going to the pool to see his cousins, I got the toddler death glare and a firm shake of the head. This was particularly unconvincing since just last night, he was crying and yelling their names when they had to go home. Toddlers are unpredictable…you never quite know what you're going to get with them.

Despite the morning protests, we wrangled swimsuits, sunscreen, snacks, and floaties into the car. The second his eyes spotted his cousins in the parking lot, all that “no, I don’t want to go” energy vanished like magic. He practically tried to unbuckle himself to sprint to them.

Pool Time: Cousins, Chaos, and “Watch This!” Moments

Once inside, the pool was its own little world, part waterpark, part social experiment. My two babies dipped their toes into the water for the first time this summer. They are not yet water babies, and when I tried to hold them on their backs to float, thinking I was offering them a spa-like experience, they looked at me like I had betrayed our entire family line. The screaming was so dramatic, I’m pretty sure people assumed I was trying to baptize them against their will.

Meanwhile, my niece was a one-girl artistic swimming team. Every few minutes: “Auntie! Watch this!” She’d show off a new swimming trick, some of which may have been invented on the spot but were performed with such confidence that I felt compelled to clap every time.

The fountains in the kids’ zone were another adventure. My son is both sensory seeking and sensory sensitive, which means he wants all the sensations but on his terms. He’d run full speed toward the fountains, laughing like it was the best day of his life…and then, the second the spray hit his face, he ran back to me like the fountains had tried to steal his lunch money.

Then there was cousin-following. My son shadowed his 3- and 5-year-old cousins like a little bodyguard in swim trunks. If they sat down to dry off, he sat down to dry off. If they ran back into the water, he sprinted in after them like he was late for a very important meeting. At one point, all three of them were lined up on the edge of the shallow pool, kicking their feet in unison. It was like a tiny synchronized swim team that had never rehearsed a day in their lives.

And of course, there was the Great Kiddie Zone Faceplant of 2025. My son tripped, went face-first into water that was barely up to his knees, and came up sputtering like he’d survived a deep-sea shipwreck. His aunt reminded him (lovingly, but also trying not to laugh) that he could…stand up. Fairly certain his toddler brain is convinced, “You don’t understand the trauma I’ve endured.”

The Social Side of Splashing

What looks like “just a fun day at the pool” is actually full of learning opportunities. Play is how kids develop social, emotional, and physical skills; it’s their work.

At the pool, my son was:

• Practicing joint attention every time someone yelled “Watch this!” and expected an audience.

• He is building peer imitation skills by copying his cousins’ every move.

• Navigating emotional regulation when the fountains or a sudden splash caught him off guard.

• Engaging in cooperative play, sharing toys, Goldfish crackers, and space in the water.

Mixing age groups has its own magic:

• Older kids model more advanced skills, from swimming strokes to water safety.

• Same-age peers help practice turn-taking, sharing, and negotiating “rules” of a game.

• Younger kids give older ones a chance to lead, nurture, and practice patience.

Even cousin following was an important developmental step, learning from peers, feeling included, and practicing group belonging.

The blessings of different age groups (not on our pool day), but it's beautiful and fun to see our youngest cousins/siblings become the older cousins/siblings. These two are amazing with the three babies.

Even With a Dream Team, Meltdowns Happen

Now, with a mom and grandma who are both counselors, and an aunt who’s a kindergarten teacher with four kids of her own, you’d think we’d have toddler transitions down to an art form. Spoiler: we do not. Even with a pool deck full of professionals, meltdowns happen. And when they do, they happen big.

When it was time to leave, the meltdown began over a toy tractor. My son was clutching it like it was the Holy Grail. His aunt tried to put it back in the toy bin stealthily. His spidey-senses must have started tingling, because that boy caught on to the situation so fast! He caught her in the act! Full-on meltdown begins like a bad nuclear reactor! We're talking, his aunt is carrying him like a sack of potatoes under one arm and carrying her 8-month-old on her hip. She's a rockstar at not feeding into the meltdowns, but she also recognizes when it's time to leave, even if that means we are doing so with a toddler kicking and screaming.

From that point forward, leaving was a full-contact sport. My sister-in-law passed my son to me and I wrestled him into the wagon. He attempted multiple wagon escapes, screamed at an operatic level, and once in the car, fought any suggestions Mimi provided to distract and redirect. At the same time, I got the girls and the wagon loaded. Then he shouted his grievances for the next 20 minutes until he decided this was not getting him anywhere. All the validating of his feelings and trying to help him find the words to express his feelings was no good in this instance. The emotional center of his brain had taken over, and his prefrontal cortex was lost in the fray. Typically, I'd hold him and co-regulate, but that's hard to do driving down the road. So kicking and screaming is where we hung out for those 20 minutes.. Somewhere in there, I’m pretty sure he invented new words to express his outrage.

Counselor Corner: Why Leaving Fun Is So Hard

As a counselor (and a mom who’s been humbled by more than one public meltdown), I know that transitioning from a “preferred activity” (like swimming with cousins) to a “non-preferred activity” (leaving, napping, doing literally anything else) is tough for little ones.

Here’s why:

1. They live in the now: “We can come back next week” doesn’t carry weight when all they can feel is the joy of this moment.

2. Their regulation skills are still developing: The prefrontal cortex, which helps control impulses and emotions, isn’t entirely online yet.

3. They feel loss intensely: To them, leaving can feel like losing something forever, not just “pausing” it.

Transition Tips for Parents

• Give countdown warnings: “We’re leaving in 10 minutes… 5 minutes… 2 minutes…”

• Offer small choices: “Do you want to say goodbye to the pool or your cousins first?”

• Use a visual timer: Kids understand seeing time pass better than hearing it.

• Create a “next step” to look forward to: “When we get home, we’ll make popsicles.”

• Make a goodbye ritual: Wave, high-five, or chant “See you next time!”

• Model calm: They’ll mirror your tone, even in a meltdown

What We Took Away from This Pool Day

• Play is learning: Social skills, motor skills, emotional regulation…all wrapped in sunscreen.

• Different ages teach different skills: Every child in the group has something to offer.

• Even pros have “those moments”: All the training in the world doesn’t erase the fact that kids are kids.

• Public meltdowns are a rite of passage: Most parents have been there and are silently cheering you on.

• Humor is survival gear: It’s either laugh or cry when you’re chasing a wet toddler across a splash pad.

We left the pool with wet hair, tired arms, and a wagon full of worn-out kids. Some memories from the day are loud and tear-streaked, but most are full of sunshine, laughter, and the kind of cousin magic that makes the chaos worth it. And next time? We are bringing our water toys to avoid the tractor meltdown.