Where's my popcorn?

Younger Daughter's Quaker parrot, Lihn, is in our care while YD serves in the Navy.

I try to give her lots of out-of-cage time (notably mornings and evenings), and she's gotten into a good routine with us. (Surprisingly, Mr. Darcy is very calm and patient with her. There are times Lihn flies around and lands on the floor right in front of him, and he doesn't pounce. For a hunting dog, that's impressive. We always praise him up the whazoo whenever this happens.)

Anyway, it's become an evening habit to give Lihn a piece of popcorn. As I sit at my computer, she flies to my fist (encased in a glove, otherwise she'll nibble my cuticles to death), eats her popcorn, and then attends to her feathers while I watch stupid YouTube videos for an hour or so. Pets thrive on routine, and this is ours.

I keep her popcorn in a jar in the kitchen, and the other day it was getting low, so I pulled it out and put it on the counter as a visual reminder to pop more corn.

In the morning I put Lihn on the counter while making tea, and she made a beeline for the jar.

"Hey, where's my popcorn?"

Sorry, kiddo. Popcorn is an evening treat.