I first walked into Giggle Monkey Toys at age 11 with my parents. My dad, born in 1954, lit up at the sight of puzzles, games, and Lincoln Logs. He grew as giddy as I was as he reminded me of the pioneer villages I once staged, complete with quarantines to keep diphtheria from spreading through my western town.
We moved through the aisles. He grabbed a Frisbee and claimed its inventor had copied him and his friends, who tossed paint can lids back and forth in the sand-strewn streets of coastal Mississippi. I replied with a sly smile that, at his great age, he might also have invented the bucket handle.
Those visits belong to memory now, yet the store still works the same magic. Giggle Monkey stirs old memories even as it helps families create the ones they will treasure tomorrow.
More than a decade later, I brought my daughter Maple to the legendary toy store. She ran straight to the table of manipulatives, stacking, sorting, and learning. To move her along, I pulled her from the magnets, and she drifted toward a large wooden train set, laying track and sending cars around the loop. Her grandparents and I watched her play. Her grandpa relived his boyhood excitement through her eyes as she crashed the trains together, and I remembered my own as a kid in a bookstore, leaning over a train set, captivated.
A Teacher Turned Shopkeeper
The store’s current owners, Tammy and John Clower, never intended to be toy retailers. Tammy had retired from teaching kindergarten when she took a part-time job at Giggle Monkey. Within ten months, she had come to know the shelves as well as she once knew her lesson plans. When the owners announced they were closing, Tammy and John bought it.
She brought her background in child development; he brought his years of administrative management. Both brought curiosity and a love of play.
Eight years on, they are still behind the counter, stocking puzzles, and explaining STEM kits.
What’s on the Shelves
The shelves stretch floor to ceiling, filled with plush animals, science kits, and books that invite browsing. The lighting feels warm, and the wooden floors creak under the shuffle of feet.
Children drop to the floor with stuffed animals and construction sets, testing pieces while their parents watch, weighing how much joy shines across a child’s face and how to translate that into a price they are willing to pay.
A massive Ferris wheel built entirely from K’Nex parts towers in one corner, more spectacle than sales pitch, and grandparents pause to point it out as much for themselves as for the kids.
The age range of the products within the establishment stretches further than many expect, from soft rattles for infants to the craft kits that teenagers now embrace through TikTok trends.
The air carries conversation, not noise; the loudest thing in the store is laughter. Tammy Clower moves easily through the space, answering questions, kneeling to show a child how a toy works, or standing back to let families explore at their own pace. The result is not chaos but calm, and that sense of calm draws a sharp contrast to much of the toy industry today.
In too many homes, toys blind children with flashing lights and pound them with canned music. They beep, buzz, and blare until a playroom feels like an arcade. Manufacturers sell stimulation, not imagination. Parents have begun to push back. They no longer settle for simply keeping their kids away from what is scary or inappropriate; they want toys and programs that act with intention and provide more than distraction.
Child psychologists echo this concern, often pointing to the remarkable changes they see when parents make one simple adjustment: they remove the loud, flashing toys and the obnoxious, crude television shows. Nothing else in the home shifts, yet the difference in the children is dramatic. They gain focus and settle into positive play. They begin to treat others with greater respect, and their overall behavior calms. In these quieter, more deliberate environments, children thrive.
This focus on intentional play also explains why Giggle Monkey stands out. It represents something rarer than ever: the independent toy store. National chains have shrunk, and the toy aisles in big-box retailers lean toward what sells fast rather than what endures. Online marketplaces offer convenience but little curation. By contrast, small shops like Giggle Monkey carve out a niche through selection, expertise, affordability, and a sense of place.
Dahlonega’s historic square amplifies that role. Visitors spill into the shop after a meal or a festival, while locals know it as a place to find birthday presents, rainy-day activities, or simply a half hour of play. Tammy Clower and her staff provide recommendations that no algorithm can match, guiding parents toward toys that suit their children’s needs and interests. That same instinct, to match the right child with the right tool, also drives the store’s approach to education.
Hence, the team extends the toy store experience beyond the shelves. This year, for the first time, they encouraged children to design their own board games and submit them to national competitions. The effort keeps young minds engaged when school is out and reflects the company’s belief that toys double as tools for learning.
This endeavor is organized through the Young Inventor Challenge®, which invites children ages 6 to 18 to develop and pitch original inventions to toy and game companies, industry professionals, the media, and the public. The program ignites imagination and creativity while building presentation skills. It also offers professional critiques from People of Play industry experts, giving young inventors a chance to take their ideas to the next level.
A Community Fixture
Parents and visitors echo the impression the Clower’s leave on me and my family. One mother wrote after a weekend in Dahlonega: “My husband and I spent the day in Dahlonega on Saturday and found this gem of a toy store! I really appreciated the selection of sensory-friendly toys. The owner was so kind and welcoming. 10/10 experience.” That Google review, signed by Brittaney Crow, reflects dozens of others that highlight the store’s mix of warmth and curation.
Another visitor, Elizabeth McGinnis, added: “Great store with great staff! They played games with us and made us feel like a kid again! 10/10 if you want to meet with the experts and have some fun!”
Giggle Monkey’s location on the Dahlonega square ensures steady foot traffic, but it’s the welcome inside that creates loyalty. Tammy, with her warm shoulder-length brown hair and ready smile, greets customers in a way that feels both sweet and assured. She knows which puzzles suit a six-year-old, which books might coax a reluctant reader, and how to talk parents through choices without overwhelming them.
I came to know her not only as a shopkeeper but as an encourager of my work at The Cute North Georgian Magazine and, more broadly, of other women in business. She invited me to the Dahlonega Chamber of Commerce women’s conference, Inspired—an extension of the same ethos she brings to the store: lift others up, make the space brighter.
The Thread Through Generations
For me, Giggle Monkey Toys is not just another small shop. It is a thread that ties three generations together — my parents, myself, and now Maple. Each of us left with something in hand, but more importantly, with the memory of wonder.
In a town crowded with souvenir shops and seasonal festivals, Giggle Monkey endures as a reminder: toys matter, not because they last, but because they stay with you.
