Einstein's theory of special relativity can be boiled down to one observation: That perception of time varies depending on the perspective of an object in motion. This observation would have come as quite a shock to Galileo (who's principle of relativity was disproved by Einstein), however any modern parent would see this as no big surprise. The speed at which one must move to take care of a child and still accomplish all that is required to move ahead in the modern urban world necessarily skews the perception of time built upon years of experience.

Relative to professional adults, a child's life moves at a rather leisurely pace. Even accounting for the responsibilities of school, homework, and family chores, ample time is still left over for social pursuits such as pulling girls' pony-tails, launching spit wads at little sisters, dodge-ball, etc... This pace undergoes its first major change around the time a teenager leaves high-school, and his parents' house in order to attend college and live in what can be referred to as "subsidized independence." Suddenly, in addition to the familiar responsibilities of schoolwork, the student is now necessarily reliant on themselves for tasks previously dependent on his parents; tasks such as buying his own top-Ramin, paying the bills for those Christina Aguilera ring tones, and possibly part-time work at the local Chik-fil-A begin to alter his perception of time. How can he accomplish all that he would like and still find time to attend the killer kegger at I-Eta-Pi?

A more fundamental shift to the perception of time, specifically that left over for leisurely pursuits, typically occurs following college at the onset of professional life. Such mundane tasks as earning a living and making money begin to seriously alter one's ability to hone their skills at World of Warcraft. Of course, time must also be set aside to tweak one's profile at e-disHarmony.com in order to bleed even more time on a multitude of over-priced restaurants, pretentious night clubs, and haughty hotties. It is amazing most twenty-something's can manage to stay awake.

Of course, if one manages to get through all of the adolescent and young adult trials, they are still in for a rude awakening once they finally get married. Suddenly a formerly "busy" person must find time to combine his own pursuits with that of his loving spouse. Sunday morning sleeping-in and hangover nursing make way for romantic strolls to Restoration Hardware. The decorative simplicity of "it's black, I'll take it," somehow morphs into the complexities of "matching floral prints." Allowing time to nurture a relationship as well as accomplishing all of the things previously thought important, no longer seems like a challenge worthy of running the extra mile, but rather an impossibility destined to transform the former bachelor's life.

All this, however, is mere training towards the ultimate challenge awaiting the transformation of child to man: Parenthood. Think of it like trying to train for a marathon by multiple trips to the corner liquor store for cheap beer. You may think you're getting a workout, but the real thing is likely to severely maim you.

You used to wake-up, take a shower, and go to work? Now there is no need to wake-up because you likely haven't slept in the first place. Your shower is more likely to be under drool than hot water. Going to work will still happen, but not before you packed the diaper bag, changed the baby, stubbed your toe on the "Exer-saucer" left in the middle of your hallway, packed some bottles, and changed your shirt twice from curdled spit-up. When you finally get to work -- late -- your phone will inevitably ring informing you that the baby is stuffed up and in need of emergency rhino-suction. Once that crisis is resolved, you tell your boss that he needs to wait because you need to run home to switch cars with your wife because you accidentally drove to work with the only infant car-seat and she is now stuck immobile. Upon returning to work, you realize that you missed your East-Coast deadline and that the Pacific Rim is now beating down your neck to make sure that the TPS reports are being submitted on time.

Your after-work relaxation time at the gym is similarly interrupted by panicked cries that the baby might have a temperature and to please stop at the local Wrong-Aid to pick up the latest advance in rectal thermometer. Finally home at 10:00pm you find baby mischievously smiling at you as if everything preceding that moment was actually some elaborate ruse to bring you home for "play-time," and that nothing what-so-ever is actually wrong at all. After half an hour's rousing game of "peek-a-boo" you've given up on all the work you were going to do at home and even on the few minutes you were hoping to spend reading the day's news. Too tired to even watch the week's installment of American Idol's Surviving Apprentice, you decide maybe you're better off getting some sleep. Once again you begin the ritual of preparing bottles, changing the baby, preparing him for sleep so that perhaps he'll let you get some. By the time all of this is done and your teeth are brushed and ready for bed, you hear the familiar "waaaaa-aaaaahhhhh!" Rushing into his room to see if anything's wrong you again get that familiar mischievous grin, "is it play time?"

If every action has an equal and opposite reaction (Newton's 3rd Law of Motion), then having a baby necessarily means no longer having time for anything else. Throughout your life adding more responsibility seemed to coincide with somehow moving just a little bit faster or sleeping just a little bit less and somehow managing to squeeze most everything in. Children make this careful balance a sheer impossibility. Something's got to give.

Einstein called it correctly: Time and space are relative. The faster you move through your personal space, the less time you seem to have for things you used to think were important. Thankfully, parenthood also brings with it the realization that suddenly nothing is more important that using your precious time for the development and amusement of your child.