We recently launched a sneak attack against daddy-author Neal Pollack's adorable 4-year-old son, Elijah. Or more accurately, we launched a sneak attack against author Neal Pollack shamelessly exploiting Elijah for his own literary ambitions. Pollack responded. Fark weighed in. Facebook profiles were updated. Pollack expressed a realization: That his constant blogging of Elijah exposes the little tyke—or rather, the trite twee petite-bourgeoise portrayal of him—to public scorn. One might think this would prevent Pollack from sending little Elijah back into the baby mines. But then one would be wrong.