Admission. It's the first step.

After many long months of denial, I have finally had acknowledgement. I don't know how often I've enquired and received a flat-out fib in return.

But tonight... tonight I got the confirmation I had been waiting for.

The LGBB admitted she was pushing poo.

Sorry, people, but this is a very big moment. A lunar leap for us. In this house, apparently the obvious red watery eyes, the holding of the breath, my questions of whether she was filling her nappy receiving a breathless, strained and horrified response of "NNNNOOO!" were not enough evidence. She would attempt to convince me, even in the midst of it all, that she was not. Adamantly refuse. Then turn her face away, thus signalling her need for privacy. So I would keep a respectful distance... and move to the other end of the couch. And avoid eye contact.

But now, out of nowhere, tonight during a game of "twains" - just the latest obsession, a little wooden train set - the announcement was suddenly declared to her father and me.

"Doin' poo."

It was as if the town crier had spoken.