Rosie and Michael wedding reading
Here’s the next in my series of awesome wedding readings you might like to include in your wedding ceremony!
Readings are absolutely not a compulsory part of a marriage ceremony. They’re a way of expressing something in a way that’s different from anything you or I can come up with, and they’re also a way of including additional people in the ceremony if you want to.
We’re not necessarily talking about Bible readings here, although you can include Bible passages if you want. You might like to consider poems, passages from films or books (especially those written for children), or song lyrics. To give an even more personal touch, some couples ask their loved ones to write something specifically for their ceremony. There are plenty of options!
Rosie and Michael, by Judith Viorst, illustrated by Lorna Tomei
NB: This reading works best read by two people, one to take on each voice; I’ve bolded one voice and left the other normal so you can easily spot the difference. I have this book in gorgeous illustrated hard copy that you can use at your ceremony if you want.
Rosie is my friend. She likes me when I’m dopey and not just when I’m smart. I worry a lot about pythons, and she understands. My toes point in and my shoulders droop, and there’s hair growing out of my ears. But Rosie says I look good. She is my friend.
Michael is my friend. He likes me when I’m grouchy and not just when I’m nice. I worry a lot about werewolves, and he understands. There’s freckles growing all over me, except on my eyeballs and teeth. But Michael says I look good. He is my friend.
When I said that my nickname was Mickey, Rosie said Mickey. When I said that my nickname was Ace, Rosie said Ace. And when I was Tiger, and Lefty, and Ringo, Rosie always remembered. That’s how friends are.
When I wrote my name with a y, Michael wrote Rosey. When I wrote my name with an i, Michael wrote Rosi. And when I wrote Rosee, and Rozi, and Wrosie, Michael always did too. That’s how friends are.
Just because I sprayed Kool Whip in her sneakers, doesn’t mean that Rosie’s not my friend.
Just because I let the air out of his basketball, doesn’t mean that Michael’s not my friend.
When my parakeet died, I called Rosie. When my bike got swiped, I called Rosie. When I cut my head and the blood came gushing out, as soon as the blood stopped gushing, I called Rosie. She is my friend.
When my dog ran away, I called Michael. When my bike got swiped, I called Michael. When I broke my wrist and the bone was sticking out, as soon as they stuck it back in, I called Michael. He is my friend.
It wouldn’t matter if two billion people said she robbed a bank, if Rosie told me she didn’t, I’d believe her.
Even though his fingerprints were found all over the dagger, if Michael said, “I’m innocent,” I’d believe him.
Just because I dug a hole and covered it with leaves and told her to jump on the leaves and she fell in the hole, doesn’t mean that Rosie’s not my friend.
Just because I put a worm in his tuna salad sandwich, doesn’t mean that Michael’s not my friend.
Rosie is my friend. I sold her my yo-yo that glows in the dark for only fifty cents. I would have charged Alvin Alpert seventy-five.
Michael is my friend. I traded him my whiffle bat for only 14 marbles. It would have 20 marbles for Alvin Alpert.
If Rosie told me a secret and people hit me and bit me, I wouldn’t tell what Rosie’s secret was. And then if people twisted my arm and kicked me in the shins, I still wouldn’t tell what Rosie’s secret was. And then if people said, “Speak up, or we’ll throw you in this quicksand,” Rosie would forgive me for telling her secret.
If Michael told me a secret and people clonked me and bopped me, I wouldn’t tell what Michael’s secret was. And then if people bent back my fingers and wrestled me to the ground, I still wouldn’t tell what Michael’s secret was. And then if people said, “Speak up, or we’ll feed you to these piranhas,” Michael would forgive me for telling his secret.
Just because I call her a gorilla face, doesn’t mean that Rosie’s not my friend.
Just because I call him a banana head, doesn’t mean that Michael’s not my friend.
Sometimes I get on the diving board and decide that I’ve changed my mind. But Rosie wouldn’t laugh. She is my friend.
Sometimes I’m climbing up a tree and decide that I’d rather climb down. But Michael wouldn’t laugh. He is my friend.
If Rosie bought me an ice-cream bar, it wouldn’t be toasted almond. If Rosie bought me a shirt, it wouldn’t be green. If Rosie bought me a book, it wouldn’t be How Your Sewer System Works, or Sven of Sweden. You can count on a friend.
If Michael bought me some candy, it wouldn’t be licorice. If Michael bought me a scarf, it wouldn’t be brown. If Michael bought me a book, it wouldn’t be Know Your Lungs, or Dances of Costa Rica. You can count on a friend.
Even though I was voted Most Horrible Singing Voice in the Class, Rosie says that Alvin Alpert sings worse.
Even though I was voted Bossiest Person in the Class, Michael says that Alvin Alperts is bossier.
Rosie is my friend. When she honest and truly wanted to know if she walked like a kangaroo, I honestly told her.
Michael is my friend. When he honest and truly wanted to know if his feet were smelling stinky, I honestly told him.
Rosie would try to save me if there was a tidal wave. She’d hunt for me if kidnappers stole me away. And if I was never found again, she could have my Instamatic. She is my friend.
Michael would try to save me if a lion attacked. He’d catch me if I jumped from a burning house. And if by mistake he missed the catch, he could have my stamp collection. He is my friend.
I’d never get my tonsils out if Rosie didn’t too.
I’d never move to China without Michael.
I’d give her my last piece of chalk.
I’d give him my last Chiclet.
Rosie is…
Michael is…
[TOGETHER] My friend.