Melody went through a phase at about age two-and-a-half where she was obsessed with having pockets. All of her clothes had to have pockets, or she wouldn't wear them. She had a few sundresses that had little pockets, and a few pairs of jeans, but most kids' clothing somehow left out this valuable aspect to clothing design.
We had these things called Onesie Extenders. They are a square of fabric that is about three inches by three inches that has snaps on two sides. You snap one end on each end of the onesie's crotch snaps and a kid can wear that item of clothing for about two more inches in height. Since Melody was (and is) a ridiculously tiny child, we got a lot of mileage out of those because, trust me--she has never gotten to wide for anything in her life. Only too tall.
Melody began tucking these little pieces of fabric into the waistband of pants that didn't have pockets and would get mad if Mommy's fashion sensibilities didn't allow her to wear them in public. She would wrap a belt around herself to hold them in place when wearing dresses. Mommy began to hide them.
So this lead Melody to seek out the pocket she never knew she had--the Panty Pocket. She would sometimes stick so much stuff in there that I would go to put her in her car seat and she would squeak in surprise at the unpleasant sensation of sitting on whatever she just sat on. I would make her empty her panties before leaving the house.
But my favorite was the look on someone's face when she would hand them something and they would realize where it came from. Or they would ask for something and she would say, "I've got it in my Panty Pocket."
As I write this, I realize that Melody simply cannot help it. She is genetically inclined to use undergarments for purposes that their manufacturer's never fathomed. I was about that age when I helped my Uncle Nathan wash his truck. About halfway through he realized that in lieu of a sponge i was using, you guessed it--my panties. He freaked and washed his truck again.
I have no tales to tell on my mother (although I am sure at least one exists) but MY grandmother, finding her dentures uncomfortable, would put them in her bra, nestled securely, and would fish them out when the phone rang or someone came to the door. This practice went on for a good time until the day she bit herself. Yes, you read that correctly.
So she sewed pockets in all her dresses instead of using her former storage location. Melody would approve.