The fruit used in a proverb to say a child acts similar to the way their parents do.

I twist and I turn like a long, winding road, Processing everything you have swallowed and stowed. I map out the journey from the throat to the end, With acid and enzymes to break and to blend. From the burning of reflux to the depths of the gut, I look inside chambers that are usually shut. A scope is my flashlight, the liver my guide, I fix up the troubles that swallow inside. What medical specialty am I?

I’m worked into your head, but never into your thoughts. The more I disappear, the more I’ve accomplished. What am I?

Lorry carrying fruit collided with a lorry carrying sugar. Police say it caused a terrible one of these

I am the last one, and I once broke a camel's back. Woven together, I can become a hat.