The other day after work, I was reading a book. After a while, I realized I needed to eat something. So I went to the kitchen to make myself some bacon and eggs but I really didn't want to stop reading, not even for fifteen minutes. So I put my Kindle on the counter and read while I cooked. I knew it was a stupid thing to do -- I was grating cheese and turning bacon and not looking at what I was doing and I could have spilled food on the Kindle or hurt myself. But I just had to keep reading, so I did.
It felt so good, not just to read, but to be so compelled to read. And I thought, as I was scrambling the eggs: This is the feeling of my happy childhood.
ETA: I think the book I was reading was Unwind by Neal Shusterman