Swimming Lessons With Toddlers: A Wet, Sticky Horror Show

Swimming Lessons With Toddlers: A Wet, Sticky Horror Show

Swimming lessons used to be something wholesome.
Now? They are an hour-long lesson in panic, chaos, and chlorine-induced trauma.

Step 1: The Arrival 

You arrive early, thinking:

“We’ll be prepared. It’ll be fun. My child will love it.”

You have:

• Goggles that don’t fit

• Swim nappies that leak

• A towel that’s somehow still damp from last week

Your child immediately refuses to enter the building because it smells.   Great....

Step 2: The Changing Room of Doom

Changing rooms are biohazards disguised as tiles.

• Kids scream

• Parents mutter

• Someone drops a nappy on the floor

• You step in it

• You silently swear you will never leave the house again

Step 3: Entering the Pool

The pool is blue, inviting… and full of chaos.

• Toddlers scream at the water

• Toddlers scream in the water

• Toddlers scream because someone else is screaming

Your child refuses to get in.
You get in.
You realise chlorine has ruined your eyebrows and sense of smell.

Step 4: The Teacher (Or Lifeguard of Sanity)

The instructor is cheerful. Too cheerful.

• They clap

• They sing songs

• They expect toddlers to float, paddle, and cooperate

Meanwhile, your child:

• Screams

• Throws toys

• Spits water at you intentionally

You clap anyway, praying it looks like encouragement.

Step 5: Chaos in the Water

Toddlers are like tiny sharks with zero coordination:

• One splashes

• Another bites the edge of the pool

• One rolls under water in a dramatic flop

• You shout: “STOP! STOP! STOP!”

You are soaked. You are defeated.
You are questioning your life choices.

Step 6: The Exit (The Betrayal)

You dry off. You change. You gather your things.

• Child refuses towel

• Child refuses shoes

• Child screams because they wanted the blue floaty, not the red one

You leave. You are damp, exhausted, and 50% certain your child is secretly plotting against you.

The Real Truth About Swimming Lessons

Yes, your child may eventually float, paddle, or even like water.
Yes, you may eventually dry off.
Yes, other parents will silently judge you—but that’s fine, because you’re a warrior.

You leave wet, exhausted, and smelling faintly of despair and pee.
You may never wear mascara again.
You may never trust public pools.

And yet… next week, you’ll go back.
Because deep down, you know:

• You survived today.

• Your child survived today.

• And somehow, against all odds, you’re still functioning human beings.

Swimming lessons: a wet, chaotic, traumatic rite of passage… and a reminder that you are absolutely, terrifyingly unkillable.