From my father’s autobiography. Will annotate shortly:
“Once reading to me for bed when I was very young, my mother told me what she said was a joke. A little boy about my age was Was nervously, hesitantly, fearfully standing up on his bed. next to the bed was his mother, her arms cupped wide apart. “Come on, go ahead, jump,” She earnestly exhorted. “I’m here. You won’t get hurt. I’m your mother and I’ll catch you. Promise.” After several minutes of cajoling, the reluctant boy finally complied.
The mother stepped back and dropped her arms. The boy crashed to the floor and cried hysterically. End of joke.
I remember thinking this was mysteriously not in any way funny or even comprehensible, as my mother laughingly turned to me and delivered the punch line: “You see, Joey, never trust anyone, even your own mother.”