You think they're just for cleaning your ears. At least my husband does; he likes to walk around the house sweeping a fuzzy little Q-tip in and around the labyrinth of an ear, wandering rooms as he does brushing his teeth (a bad habit the boys have picked up as well. Toothpaste dribble, along with the usual melted juicy-pop puddles, dot our wood floors).
In any case, if you have kids, you've figured out that Q-tips are also great for art projects. Great for glueing down into pictures. Or twisting into complicated little architectural phenomenons.
My now seven year old has always loved Q-Tips. And when he discovered where Daddy keeps his stash, on the bottom open bathroom shelf, he would climb up on the toilet seat and grab a handful.
Some would drop, and you could find a trail of them through the house. Kind of like the trail of cheese-stick wrapper or dirty socks.
Kenny likes to try and make things disappear, and this can mean Q-tips as well. "Magic!" He said, one armpit tightly closed but not tight enough to entirely hide a tiny white Q-tip head.
"It's under your arm," Ryan said, rolling his eyes.
Kenny can get real mad when Ryan figures out his magic tricks, and I expected him to storm up to his room. But he was happily distracted by the other hundred or so Q-tips he'd arranged in a plastic cup.
Then one evening after his shower, my husband comes downstairs looking alarmed. "I'm out of Q-tips!"