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I don't think that I ever did feel like a kid when I went back to my parents for Christmas. Instead, it felt cloying, cluttered and claustrophobic - and as far as I can tell, it is entirely coincidental that all three of those start with 'cl'. I felt out of place and constrained and it seemed irrelevant to anything else in my world. Mum and my siblings were all doing their usual things, but I felt in the same stiff, un-natural position that 'posh' visitors were always put in back when I was living there as a child. There was a sense that it was all a performance for my benefit - but one that never really convinced.
This fundamentally and thoroughly explains what this Christmas has been like for me. Trying to move from one room to another has been a constant battle of stepping over things and pushing past clutter.
Sleeping on the couch of dog fur hasn't been pleasant.
And the cherry on top has been my girlfriend having to go home because of her dog allergies. Hopefully next year will be better.
Save for a hotel and pack Claritin.
I only live ~15 minutes from my parents. I just didn't want to have to deal with going back and forth. Wasn't worth it in the end.