It’s the season of appreciation: Mother’s day, Father’s day — la-dee-dah — but let’s get real. We are biologically programmed to love our kids, and like it or not, they are pretty much stuck with us too.

Babysitters, on the other hand, demonstrate all that is best in the world. They do all the stuff we do — change stinky diapers, cajole recalcitrant eaters, chase naked, unready-for-school-on-time bums around the house while the little devils laugh — but unlike us, they don’t get to totally lose it and scream, “Get in the car RIGHT NOW!” Instead, they do it with love and patience, and all for one of the lowest paychecks in town.

How awesome are my babysitters? Here are some of the things that have happened on their watch:

– When I lived in NJ and worked in Manhattan on September 11, 2001, my babysitter, Magnolia, stayed with my daughter until after 11:00 pm, having no contact from me and not knowing if I was ever coming back, since she had no idea what building I actually worked in, as that particular detail had never come up. When I finally got home after having walked across the George Washington Bridge and back to my little NJ town, she fell into my arms and cried with happiness that I was safe.

– When my middle daughter was 2, she put a pair of scissors in the microwave and turned it on. Yes, the whole thing caught fire; Yes, my babysitter (Abby) had to put it out; and Yes, she carried the acridly smoking remains outside BY HERSELF (you know how heavy those suckers are?) to keep the kids safe from the smoke. The icing on the cake? She didn’t call me at work, but instead waited until I got home so I wouldn’t have to rush back in a panic.

– These days, my babysitter lives right next door, and my kids regularly race over to her house to play. She offers to jump on the trampoline with them and even invites them in for snacks —when she’s not supposed to be babysitting — just because they asked nicely. When I don’t let him go, my 2-year old son stands at our back door calling her name aloud, “(C)allie!!, (C)allie!!!”, like a stung Cyrano calling to his Roxanne.

So here I pay tribute to my babysitters. Over the years I have been spectacularly fortunate, with each one demonstrating far more love and patience with my kids than could be reasonably expected from a total stranger. But in fact, what has happened is that they are not total strangers. In short order they became part of the family, which surely qualifies them for a Babysitter’s Day, doesn’t it?