Think of $\mathcal{S}$ as a set of tickets. You can write stuff on a ticket. Usually a ticket starts out with the name of some real-world person or object that it "represents" or "models." There's lots of blank space on each ticket for writing other things.
You can make as many copies of each ticket as you want. A probability model $\mathbb{P}$ for this real-world population or process consists of making one or more copies of every ticket, mixing them up, and putting them in a box. If you--the analyst--can establish that the process of drawing one ticket randomly from this box emulates all the important behavior of what you are studying, then you can learn much about the world by thinking about this box. Because some tickets may be more numerous in the box than others, they may have difference chances of being drawn. Probability theory studies these chances.
When numbers are written on the tickets (in a consistent way), they give rise to (probability) distributions. A probability distribution merely describes the proportion of tickets in a box whose numbers lie within any given interval.
Because we usually don't know exactly how the world behaves, we have to imagine different boxes in which the tickets appear with different relative frequencies. The set of these boxes is $\mathcal{P}$. We view the world as being adequately described by the behavior of one of the boxes in $\mathcal{P}$. It is your objective to make reasonable guesses as to which box it is, based on what you see on the tickets you have pulled out of it.
As an example (which is practical and realistic, not a textbook toy), suppose you are studying the rate $y$ of a chemical reaction as it varies with temperature. Suppose that the theory of chemistry predicts that within the range of temperatures between $0$ and $100$ degrees, the rate is proportional to the temperature.
You plan to study this reaction at both $0$ and $100$ degrees, making several observations at each temperature. You therefore make up a very, very large number of boxes. You are going to fill each box with tickets. There is a rate constant written on each one. All the tickets in any given box have the same rate constant written on them. Different boxes use different rate constants.
Using the rate constant written on any ticket, you also write down the rate at $0$ and the rate at $100$ degrees: call these $y_0$ and $y_{100}$. But this is not yet enough for a good model. Chemists also know that no substance is pure, no quantity is exactly measured, and other forms of observational variability occur. To model these "errors," you make very, very many copies of your tickets. On each copy you change the values of $y_0$ and $y_{100}$. On most of them you change them only a little. On a very few, you might change them a lot. You write down as many changed values as you plan to observe at each temperature. These observations represent possible observable outcomes of your experiment. Into the box go each such set of these tickets: it is a probability model for what you might observe for a given rate constant.
What you do observe is modeled by drawing a ticket from that box and reading only the observations written there. You don't get to see the underlying (true) values of $y_0$ or $y_{100}$. You don't get to read the (true) rate constant. Those aren't afforded by your experiment.
Every statistical model must make some assumptions about the tickets in these (hypothetical) boxes. For instance, we hope that when you modified the values of the $y_0$ and $y_{100}$, you did so without consistently increasing or consistently decreasing either one (as a whole, within the box): that would be a form of systematic bias.
Because the observations written on each ticket are numbers, they give rise to probability distributions. The assumptions made about the boxes typically are phrased in terms of properties of those distributions, such as whether they must average out to zero, be symmetric, have a "bell curve" shape, are uncorrelated, or whatever.
That's really all there is to it. Much in the way that a primitive twelve-tone scale gave rise to all of Western classical music, a collection of ticket-containing boxes is a simple concept that can be used in extremely rich and complex ways. It can model just about anything, ranging from a coin flip to a library of videos, databases of Website interactions, quantum mechanical ensembles, and anything else that can be observed and recorded.