Parenting is a rich and varied experience. It has its moments of joy, its occasions of sadness, and its occasional thunderclaps of pure terror. There's the joy of watching your children grow into marvelous little people; the frustration of watching them destroy every object you value; the pride in their accomplishments; and the ever-present awareness of how easily they can hurt themselves doing things that seem perfectly sensible to them.
There is also that one particular, transcendent part of parenthood. It starts with your child's first breath. It surrounds you all through their childhood. It never goes away.
When you distill the experience of being a parent down to its purest, most refined form, you begin to see what it's all really about: the poop. Wiping off the poop. Picking up the poop. If you're lucky, flushing the poop. But no matter what else your children may do, your job as a parent will always come back to the poop.